


Pull the strings in your hand

by Ascel



Series: from my dreams [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Hunger Games Setting, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Established Relationship, Explicit Language, M/M, Mental Health Issues, POV Multiple, Politics, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Propaganda, Survivor Guilt, Unreliable Narrator, totalitarianism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2018-02-22
Packaged: 2018-10-28 11:13:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10830114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ascel/pseuds/Ascel
Summary: "Is this why you became a Gamemaker?" Rey asked."The Games are all about legacy," Hux said. "I intend to make my last."---In which Hux is a Head Gamemaker with ambitions, Ren is the Capitol's darling, and Rey and Finn become a symbol of hope. Somewhere, a rebellion is brewing.





	1. Finn

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to [And from my dreams](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6457630), but I feel like it isn't necessary to have read the previous part, as long as you have basic knowledge of the plot of original Hunger Games.
> 
> I also feel like this part gets significantly darker. I tired to show it in tags, but there are still some things I haven't tagged for, so if you'd like more detailed warning you can ask me on [tumblr](http://dobranocka.tumblr.com/).

Finn woke up screaming.

He often did, these days. Almost twelve months after the Games and the nightmares haven't gotten any better.

He closed his eyes again, tried to calm his breathing. Things were never perfectly quiet in space, with the ship always humming softly, but they were quieter now than they have been on the day shift.

He didn't do so well with quiet anymore.

"Finn?" Rey was standing at his door, the lights from the corridor making her nothing more than a dark shape. He didn't hear her coming in. "I heard you screaming."

"That's okay," Finn said. His voice was hoarse. He sat up, cleared his throat. "It was just a nightmare. You can go back to sleep."

Rey fidgeted, came closer.

"I have them, too," she whispered.

Finn padded the bedding beside him. "Do you want to...?"

Rey nodded, climbed upon the bed and laid down. They curled around one another, like a pack of puppies. Like they used to in the Games. It was somehow easier, with Rey breathing in the same rhythm as him, to stay calm. He had gotten used to it, hyper aware when she wasn't by his side. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that they weren't in the arena anymore, that they were out and safe, that he wouldn't wake up to her corpse.

"You always leave, in my dreams," Rey said, her quiet voice filling the space between their bodies. "You leave, and you don't come back, and I'm alone and waiting, and it feels so long. And then I always wake up before anyone comes."

"But you did come back," Rey found his hand, gripped it hard. "You came back for me, in the arena. That was real. The dreams aren't."

Finn squeezed her fingers. She was right, and real, and here. He repeated this like a mantra in his head. _I am here, I am here_.

They were both quiet for a time.

"When I entered the Games," Rey started reluctantly, "I only wanted to get out. To survive. To live. But then I met you, and you said you didn't want to kill anyone, not in the Games. You didn't want them to change you. And you came back for me," she repeated. Her voice sounded wet.

"And then at the end, when I found those berries, I thought that you were right not to want it. That it wasn't worth it to win by their rules. That I'd rather die than kill you," Rey's grip on his hand was bruising.

"I know. I know," he tried to be soothing.

"Finn," she said, nervous, fidgety. "Finn, what are we doing here. Why are we," she swallowed, then spoke faster. "The things we're telling these people. How the generosity of the President brought us together. How wonderful and just his rule is. How they should rejoice in it. How can we tell them that."

"You saw what happened when we didn't. They will kill us if we don't," Finn whispered, with a heavy certainty in his gut. Rey was right. It wasn't fair, what they were doing; he didn't want this. But he couldn't forget the sight of the execution which followed their speech the first and only time they went off the script. He didn't want to cause more death. There wasn't any way out of this.

"We could run. We could steal a ship, disappear in the Outer Rim." There was hope in Rey's voice, a pleading note asking him to just agree, to say yes, to say it would be so easy. He wished it would.

"Rey, no. No. There's no running from them, they would find us, and kill us, and they would kill everyone who helped us, everyone we care about." They would, Finn knew they would. He and Rey were both orphans, as far as they knew, but there were still people he cared about here. Poe was here. They would have to leave Poe. They would have to leave everything and they didn't have anywhere to go. No way out. The helplessness felt like a stone in his throat. He might've choked on it.

Rey made a noise between sob and scream. "So we're going to just do this. Be their puppets, for the rest of our lives. Become like Phasma, like _Ren_?"

"Maybe they will let us go," Finn said, feeling desperate. "Disappear somewhere. Not every Victor lives in Coruscant. After this tour, maybe they will let us go."

"After the tour," Rey nodded, still crying quietly. "It's just until the end of this tour."

"Yes," Finn murmured, trying to sound convincing, for her, for himself. "Just for this tour."

The Games would end someday, they had to end someday.

It would be fine. He was here, he was here, it would be fine.

They didn't spoke for the rest of the night. But he didn't think either of them got any sleep.

 

* * *

 

 

"...it's because of the generosity of the Capitol we can stand here today, once again united. We are all servants in a cause greater than ourselves, now and forever," Finn finished reading the script of the datapad. He had it memorized by now, but at least when he was reading he didn't have to look at the people he was speaking to.

Lying to.

There was silence, thick and heavy, and then a few polite claps from behind him. Unamo, probably.

The people of Kamino didn't make any sort of noise. They just stood, silent and hostile.

He was rushed of the stage with Rey, surrounded by stormtroopers as always, straight back to the ship and off to another planet. He had hoped they would stay a while longer, hoped he would get to see a least one familiar thing on a planet he once called home, but it was probably the reason they didn't. The victors' home was on Coruscant. They were on Kamino for scarcely more than an hour.

Rey was tense and pale alongside him, crashing terribly with the ship's luxurious decor. She looked out of place. Finn felt out of place.

"Well, at least this wasn't as bad as the Outer Rim planets," Unamo sighed. "Backwater swamps, the lot of them. It's no wonder people there are so barbaric."

Finn thought, with a morbid sense of amusement, that both Rey and Ren were from backwater swamps. And Ren was certainly barbaric. And Unamo wasn't brave enough to imply so to his face, but she just did.

Poe must've thought the same, because he winked at him.

"Thankfully we will be back to the comforts of civilization now," Unamo continued, completely obvious. "I've had enough of sonic showers and rations. And the two of you deserve much better. You both have earned it."

Finn felt a little sick.

"Earned it?" Rey asked. "How?"

"You've won the Games, of course," Unamo answered, helped herself to a glass of champagne. "And the victors deserve their spoils, do they not?"

"So the comforts of civilization," Rey had practically spat out the last word, "are a reward for killing?"

"Rey," Poe said, making a pacifying gesture with his hands. Whatever he planned to say, Unamo didn't let him finish.

"Fighting for the glory of the Capitol is hardly-"

"Bullshit," Rey interrupted her. "You've built your civilization on blood. Of course comoforts of it could be earned by murder."

Poe brought down his hands. Unamo went white, curled her fingers around a glass. Finn tensed, expecting her reply.

He wished he could disappear.

"Young lady, you will mind yourself and-"

"No, that's quite enough," Phasma stopped her.

"Enough?" Rey growled, turning to her.

"Yes. Calm down, Rey," Phasma's voice was smooth, controlled. Even, with no room for argument.

Rey leaped to her feet.

"I don't need to calm down," she said. She opened her mouth, began to say something else, then stopped herself and stormed off to the back of the ship.

Phasma sighed.

"Aren't you going to reign her in?" Unamo asked Ren, who had stayed out of the conversation so far. He was standing away from them all, seemingly immersed in his datapad and not paying any attention to the conversation. He usually stayed apart, for the whole tour, a dark shape in the periphery of Finn's vision. Finn didn't mind it that much. He was rather pointedly ignoring Ren's presence.

"Why?" Ren asked. "She's right."

Unamo puffed up, clearly preparing to launch into a lecture. Ren looked up, expectant, and she let out a breath, thinking better of it. She looked down, murmuring. "Well, she can't go around _saying_ these things, we're already in precarious situation."

Phasma rolled her eyes. Ren just blinked, doing something with his eyebrows. It looked like amusement. Finn hoped it was amusement. He couldn't never tell with Ren.

Ren's face was weird, anyway.

"I'll go talk with her," Poe said, turning around. "Finn? Are you coming?" He asked, gentler.

Finn nodded, eager to get out of here. To get back to Rey. He felt off balance without her.

Rey was curled up on a couch in one of the smaller rec rooms, messing with some spare parts for the droids.

She looked up when they walked in.

"I shouldn't have said that, I know," she started before Poe could open his mouth. She looked back down at the parts. "I just got angry. I couldn't stand Unamo talking."

Finn slid down the couch alongside her, bumped her shoulder. She bumped him back.

"That's okay," Poe sat on the floor opposite them. "You have right to get angry, Rey. I won't blame you for that."

"But they will," she murmured. "And I still shouldn't have said these things in front of them."

"Yes," Poe smiled sadly. "But neither Phasma nor Ren minded, and Unamo is too afraid of them to complain much. Just... try not to do this, again. Not where someone else may hear."

Rey nodded. She took a small piece of metal, twirled it around. "I know. I just... Sometimes I feel like I will burst. Like I can't take this anymore. What Unamo says, what they are making us say..." She swallowed, looked at Poe. "How can anyone live like this? How can anyone believe this?"

Finn felt very small and very cold.

"But I did," he whispered.

Rey's eyes were wide and uncomprehending when she looked at him.

"I did believe this," he continued. "I believed them. And when they reaped me for the Games, I wanted to win. I wanted to be like Phasma."

"But you aren't," Rey shook her head. Took his hand, shifting closer.

Finn couldn't look at her when he spoke.

"When I saw the Games were. When the tributes started killing each other. I didn't want to do that. I didn't want to kill anybody. That... it isn't right. The Games aren't right. So I made a choice. I wasn't going to kill for them," he swallowed.

"And then I met you. And I couldn't stand the thought of you dying. I knew I could never kill you. But, Rey. It might've been better if you had killed me. It might've been better if I had died then."

"Finn, don't say that," Rey pleaded.

"This is all because of us. These people are dying because of us," Finn said, looking at Poe.

"No, no," Rey sounded like she was on the verge of tears.

"None of this would be happening if I had died in that arena," Finn kept his eyes on Poe. It was true. He couldn't look at Rey, because it was true.

"Finn," Poe said gently, touching his hand, "that's not true. I know you feel guilty, but this isn't your fault. You aren't the one responsible for the Games, or the executions, or the people starving. That's not on you."

"You're a wonderful person, Finn. You and Rey, you helped each other. Saved each other. And now you're saving so many people." Poe's hand felt warm on his. Poe's eyes were warm, too, warmer than Finn deserved.

"We're not saving any anyone. We can't help anyone," he whispered. Not even themselves.

"But you're giving them hope, don't you see? The two of you, for the first time in years you have given people hope. You can't imagine how much it means," Poe's voice was soft. Caring. Nice, like Poe himself.

Finn wanted very badly to believe him.

Poe squeezed his hand. "I know all of this has been hard on the two of you. Just focus on the tour for now. It's only a few more stops. You can get through this."

Finn nodded. The tour would be over soon, just a few more planets. He could endure it, pretend a little longer. It would be fine.

Everything would be fine.

 

* * *

 

 

The opulence of the Presidential Palace was staggering.

Finn thought he had gotten used to luxury of the Capitol, but the courtesy afforded to the Victors apparently didn't compare to the grandeur displayed by the most powerful man in the Galaxy, if he wished to show it. Maybe this was a reminder, too.

The Palace was bright and elegant, made of clean lines and glittering glass. It was mostly white, which was surprising. Finn had imagined Snoke to live in a dark cave somewhere, avoiding even the artificial light. Not in a place like this one. He didn't know enough about architecture to recognise the style. He didn't know anything about architecture, actually. But it was different than most building on Coruscant, or at least the ones showed to the tributes and victors. It looked older and simpler, more tasteful, even drowning in flowers and decorations and overly bright lights.

It was all undeniably beautiful, but there was so much of it. Finn felt like he was drowning in the sounds smells and colours. He had lost count of how many people he'd talked to, how many of them had touched him, caressed his hair or the sleeve of his jacket, pushed a drink or hors d'oeuvre into his hand, whispered in his ears.

Both Phasma and Ren had disappeared as soon as they all had arrived at the Palace. Unamo had taken over then, dragging him and Rey around and introducing them to everyone. Finn felt like he had talked to half of Coruscant. He wished they could just go home.

He fidgeted uneasily, staying at the edge of a dance floor. The drink in his hand was alcoholic and overly sweet, and he felt like he was going to be sick if he took another sip. Rey didn't look any better.

"Finn, Rey," Unamo called, appearing by their side, "this is Armitage Hux, the Head Gamemaker."

The man following her was tall redhead in incapable suit, very understated for Capitol standards. Finn wished he didn't remember his face so well, but just a sight of him made him feel cold all over. He didn't know why Unamo felt the need to introduce the man who orchestrated their Games. He didn't know what to say to someone who was personally responsible for his nightmares.

Unamo was starting to glare daggers at them both, so silence wasn't an option.

"A pleasure," Finn managed to stutter out.

"Likewise," Hux said, then looked at Rey. "May I?"

Rey looked like she'd rather kiss a snake, but she still allowed herself to be whisked away for a dance.

"I can't believe you," Unamo hissed, "You could at least try to behave. Do you have any idea how important people here are? Do you want to alienate them? Are you even listening to me? Finn!"

Finn nodded absentmindedly, keeping his eyes on Rey.

"Oh, Unamo, have some patience for the boy," Poe came up behind him. "Can't you see he's in love, unable to think of anything else? The party is in his honour, he should be allowed to have some fun."

Some tension in Finn's shoulder faded away. He felt safer with Poe here.

"You can indulge him all you want, Poe, but I'm not here to have fun," Unamo said, and stormed off in a huff.

Poe sighed. He looked at Finn, bringing up a hand to his back and drawing slow circles here.

"Are you okay?"

Finn shook his head. He could be honest with Poe.

"The President will speak soon. We can leave after that," Poe sounded sure. Finn wondered if they really could. Unamo certainly wouldn't be happy if they did.

"We haven't been here that long," he said.

"No one will mind," Poe made a dismissing motion with a hand that wasn't on Finn's back. "Most of them won't notice."

Finn rocked on his hills. He did want to get out of here, but mostly he just wanted Rey to come back. He didn't like it when she wasn't near.

Still, it was tempting to think of leaving; the party, Coruscant, all of it. The tour was almost over. It all would be over soon.

"We just have to stay a little longer," Poe said, and when Finn finally looked at him his eyes were dark and sincere. It was very easy to believe Poe.

A little longer.

The music stopped, but Finn almost didn't notice, caught in Poe's eyes.

"I hate that man," Rey said, startling him. He didn't notice she'd gotten back, and when she’d come so near. It was unsettling. He had been very aware of where Rey was since the Games, but he had lost track of her now.

"I don't know how you can stand this, Poe," she continued, clearly angry. She looked twitchy, vibrating with impotent fury. "I don't think I could stomach another conversation with these people. Please tell me we're leaving soon."

Finn shifted, uneasy, hoping no one had heard her complaining like this.

"Few moments longer, Rey," Poe send her one of his charming smiles. "We wouldn't want to miss the President's speech, would we?"

Rey grimaced, but nodded, visibly getting a hold of herself. Finn tried to do the same, tried to look delighted and attentive and charming, like Poe. Like Unamo would've wanted him to. Like there was nowhere else he would rather be in the whole Galaxy.

Just a few moments longer.

 

* * *

 

Not a month later, President Snoke announced the tributes of 30th Hunger Games would be reaped from existing pool of victors, and all Finn could think was no no no _nononono_. No, it was over, he was fine, it wasn't true. He was here, and Rey was here, and it wasn't true. They weren't at the arena anymore, they survived that, it wasn't true.

It wasn't, it wasn't, it _wasn't_.

He thought he was falling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, I'm open to all the critique. I also promise there will be a lot more Hux in the next chapter.


	2. Hux I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Betaing credit goes to [Marron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marron).

The Presidential party for the Victor was always the event of society. Everyone who was anyone had to be there, which made for a crowded and incredibly boring evening. But as much as Hux didn't care for the tour - though watching that idiot girl stumble her way through speeches might have been fun - this party wasn't something he could miss. Not when there was a chance Snoke himself would show up, now that they had two victors.

Two victors and unrest on more than a half of Outer Rim planets. And they had only gotten worse after the glorious tour meant to pacify them came to an end. Which was completely unsurprising to Hux, of course, but no one had asked him for an opinion. Just as no one had listened to him during the Games, before the change of rules.

It was just as well. Snoke had made his own bed, listening to Ren's advice, out of all people. He could lay in it. His loss was to Hux's benefit.

Less to his benefit was bearing the fall out of last year's Games fuck up. It was his decision to let both of the star crossed lovers live, even if only because he had to do with a bad hand the President had dealt him, and Snoke wasn't likely to forget that. It was always easier to blame your mistakes on someone else. The only reason Hux had been allowed to live was the astounding success of the Starkiller in the eyes of the public. Capitol loved that arena, and they loved their two victors even more. It wouldn't do to kill the man who was responsible for it.

Hux would prefer not to rely solely on public approval to keep himself alive, but it didn't mean he couldn't enjoy it. Or use it to his advantage. Even if it did require some courting.

And so he found himself chatting up with half of the Coruscant's dimwits and accepting their most sincere congratulations on a political failure. He had to admit, it was quite amusing, even if the repetitiveness got a bit annoying.

The party was loud and bright and chaotic, overflowing with liquor and food and outrageous fashion. Standing alone with champagne in his hand, a minute rest from the mindless conversations, Hux found himself actually missing Ren, who at least was pretty enough to justify even a most ridiculous outfit. But Ren had been accompanying his ex-pupil for the last month, alongside Phasma. The four of them were surely going to attend today, as the party was in honour of the newest victors, but it was unfortunately no place to talk.

Hux had other things to take care of, besides.

Speaking of which, on the edge of the dance floor there was their little pair of lovers, looking like lost ducklings without any of their handlers in sight. He could see them squirming.

"Mr. Hux," Unamo's voice cut into his thoughts. It looked like she was on the babysitting duty now. "You haven't met our victors yet, have you? If you would allow me to introduce you?"

Hux didn't bother replying, only gesturing gesture for her to lead the way. He obviously had met both of them during last year’s Games, but he had been hoping for the formal introduction. He wanted to talk to the girl.

He followed Unamo through the crowd. Most people got out of the way at the sight of him. It was incredibly satisfying.

"Finn, Rey," Unamo called, "this is Armitage Hux, the Head Gamemaker." She looked at a pair of them, clearly expectant.

The girl was glaring daggers at him before Unamo spoke his name, and the boy looked like a deer caught in the headlights. Neither of them said anything, until Unamo's smile slipped and she shot a meaningful look at Finn, who looked even more panicked.

"A pleasure," he stammered.

"Likewise," said Hux. "May I?" He looked at Rey, gesturing towards a dance floor.

She still hadn't said anything, and she took his hand as if she was picking up a venomous snake. At least she didn't try to cause a scene by refusing.

He led her towards other slowly moving pairs and they started waltzing. She was stiff in his arms, her movements awkward and unpracticed.

"Well, Rey... May I call you Rey?"

"No," she answered.

"Is there anything else to call you?" He smirked and didn't wait for her reply. They both knew there wasn't. The little scavenger was nothing more than an orphan from Outer Rim planet, with no family and no last name to speak of. "Has anyone taught you waltz, Rey?"

"No," she repeated stubbornly.

"You should ask Ren, then," Hux said, amused. "It's a useful skill for a tribute to have."

Rey grimaced, clearly uncomfortable with the idea. She stayed silent, glaring at some point behind Hux's shoulder and ignoring him. At least she wasn't trying to break his toes.

"Did you enjoy your tour?" Hux asked again.

"No." Apparently, this was going to be her answer to everything.

"And the party?" He didn't wait for a no this time. "Not even the food?"

Ah, there was the glare again.

"The food," she parroted after him. "Yes. Of course. How could I not enjoy throwing up all of these delicacies, only to stuff myself with more, when I saw people starving on every planet in the Outer Rim."

"Regurgitating is appalling," Hux admitted, "but you should be more careful, Miss Rey. It's poor manners to criticise the cuisine of your host."

"I didn't expect a lecture on manners from an executioner," she hissed.

"An entertainer."

"An entertainer. You find Games fun?" She sounded indignant.

"Obviously," he drawled, "look around you, Rey. Do you think anyone in this place doesn't think of the Games as fun? For them, it's entertainment, first and foremost. A reminder, sometimes, or a warning. But mostly fun."

"And you like entertaining them," Rey said, "Making Games fun."

"It's more than that," Hux studied her face. The heavy Coruscanti make up didn't suit her. It only made her look older, more tired and less genuine. She was prettier without it. "It's not a show without meaning. You know that better than anyone."

"Is this why you became a Gamemaker?" Rey asked.

"The Games are all about legacy," Hux said. "I intend to make my last."

"A legacy of death and fear?"

"If that is what it takes."

"You are despicable," Rey whispered, clearly furious. "Nothing more than a butcher, slaughtering children from behind a screen, reveling in their pain. A puppeteer ruling through fear. But I won't be scared by the likes of you."

The song ended and they were left standing in the middle of the dance floor. Rey glared at him, seething. She really hasn't learned anything since her Games.

"If you say so," Hux smiled and tilted his head. The music wasn't picking up again, which meant Snoke would speak soon. Behind Rey's back he could see Phasma's boy looking adoringly at Poe Dameron. And further back, hovering around the edge of the room like a crow, there was Ren.

"We shall see each other soon, Rey."

He left her there, standing in the middle of the dance floor. She could find her way around.

Ren was watching him come closer, unmoving. He looked striking, all in black, with just a little make up around his eyes. People were orbiting around him, like they always did at this kind of gatherings, as if Ren was a star with his own kind of gravity.

Maybe he was. Hux certainly felt a pull.

"Snoke wants to see you," Ren told him, as soon as Hux got within an earshot. They haven't seen each other in a month and that's the first thing Ren said to him. How lovely.

"Now?" Hux raised his eyebrows. "Isn't his speech starting in a minute?"

"After," Ren said, obviously very much implied in his tone.

"I'm assuming you already spoke to him?" Of course running straight to Snoke would be the first thing Ren had done after being gone from the Capitol for so long. Otherwise he might have done something the President hadn't told him to do, which Hux was pretty sure was unthinkable to Ren.

Ren just shrugged, avoided meeting Hux's eyes. Clearly, they weren't going to talk about what occurred during that meeting.

Hux swallowed down his irritation. Let Ren keep his mysteries, if it was so important to him.

"Come to me after, then," he said. Ren finally looked at him, eyes wide and surprised. Hux was pretty surprised himself, to be honest. He rarely invoked any private matters between the two of them, and certainly not in public, where someone might so easily take notice of it.

Maybe the champagne has gone to his head.

"Unless you will still be on the babysitting duty?" He continued. He was hardly going to acknowledge anything unusual about his behaviour, not after he had already asked.

"No," Ren said softly, "no, I'll come."

 

* * *

 

Snoke's private office, Hux had decided, was entirely too dark.

He supposed he shouldn't be surprised. Snoke had always favoured dark spaces, with massive, overbearing furniture. But the contrast between the bright and loud party downstairs and this dim quietness of this room was off-putting. He felt like he had walked into another realm.

"Ren said you wanted to see me, sir?"

"Armitage, yes." The President looked at him from behind a stack of flimsy. "Come closer, boy."

Hux stepped closer to Snoke's desk. He thought, unsettled, that it looked a lot like catafalque.

"Have you seen this?" Snoke  shoved a datapad with a video playing at him, and didn't wait for his answer. "Protests. Riots. Acts of civil disobedience, on almost every planet outside of the Inner Rim. They've grown bolder, since last year. Since last Games. And everywhere our sweet lovers have gone on their tour? This has gotten worse."

Hux looked at the video: on the screen a group of unidentified people attacked a wall of stormtroopers. It was a futile attempt. Unlike the stormtroopers, none of these people were wearing armour, nor had they anything that could be called a proper weapon. And yet, still, they tried.

"They think them a symbol," Snoke continued. "Of hope. Of the vulnerability of our Republic. A symbol you've created."

Hux stayed silent. He had been, from the beginning, aware of what he had done.

He had also been aware of the unrest spreading like fire across the Galaxy, though not the severity of it. But it wasn't anything he hadn't predicted a year ago.

"And now you will destroy it," Snoke said. There was a finality in his voice.

Hux looked upon the old, wrinkled face of the President. This was the man who ruled a Galaxy, but only from the shadows, only with someone else's hands.

"Yes, I quite agree," Hux nodded. "Our dear victors should both die. Only... in the right way. In the right time."

Soke reclined back in his seat, made a motion for Hux to continue.

"These kids? They're not heroes. They're not looking to save anyone, just to survive. They're so afraid, they will do anything to save their own skin," Hux scoffed. "Just look how they were on the tour, sir. Neither of them could read a prepared speech without sounding like someone held a gun to their heads and made them do it."

"And yet people still believe in them," Snoke remarked.

"For now. But what happens when they that their victors do not care about them at all? That they are too busy enjoying their new life on Coruscant and each other to pay attention to the edge of the Galaxy? That they have fun, when the rioters are dying in the streets? Oh, how quickly they will turn on their symbols. They will hate these kids so much, they will have forgotten all about you."

"And that's your plan?" Snoke asked. He didn't look interested, but he didn't look disinterested, either. The President's face was like a mask, but then again, Hux wasn't very sure it was not. The man never did look alive; there was something wrong with him.

"Put down the riots, bloodily. Don't hold back the firepower, remind them why they fear us so much. Raise the taxes, cut down the access to black market goods. Enforce police hour, public punishments and executions, with or without offense. And double the amount of propaganda, let them see nothing else. Let's keep our victors in the Capitol. Let them speak for us, how much they enjoy your rule, how grateful they are. What a great opportunity the Games were for them, how good their lives are now. How much they have now, how easy it is. And show it all to the Outer Rim. They will see there isn't any way to defy us. There is only compliance," Hux said. He took great care to sound calm and persuasive, sure of himself and his words. He needed Snoke to believe him. To do this.

Snoke was watching him with his sunken eyes, without any emotion. He looked like a corpse.

"Very well. I will leave this in your capable hands."

If Hux was anyone else, he would've sighted with relief.

 

* * *

 

"Hello, my darling, have you missed me," Ren crooned as soon as he stepped into Hux's apartment.

Millicent mewled happily at the sound of his voice and came running from the kitchen with a quiet pat pat pat sound. Hux squished a bud of jealousy raising in his chest. She never came to him, when he called, much less this happily.

Hux decided to ignore them both, just like they did to him. Let them shower each other in undignified affection, because they were apart for so long and missed each other so much...

He walked into living room instead, sat down on a couch. He let his head fall on the cushions. Relax for the first time this evening.

Snoke had agreed to his plan. He knew it was likely, but he didn't expect it to be so easy. He thought the President would be more distrustful, more wary, eager to push the blame on Hux. It wouldn't change all that much, in the grand scheme of things, but it would make his life more difficult. But Snoke had agreed. Quickly, without much persuasion. Had yielded all of the control to Hux. Had practically given him all the opportunity he needed.

Snoke had always been a fool.

Still, there was a distinct possibility Snoke hadn't been so stupid and it was all a test. Hux didn't think it very likely, but his opinion of Snoke was decidedly low. It wouldn't hurt to tread carefully, especially now, when so much was at a stake. He didn't fancy failing.

Yes, he would take care to appear nothing but a faithful servant of the President, without any ambition of his own. He would do nothing to incriminate himself. It would be difficult, with so much still outside of his control, but he would get what he wanted. He always did.

Ren, apparently having finished showing his love for Millie, climbed on the couch, lying half on it and half on Hux. He behaved like overgrown cat, eager to be petted, bumping Hux's hand with his head.

"And you? Haven't you missed me?"

"Oh, yes, darling, I've been wilting away without the warmth of your love," Hux said dryly. He allowed his fingers to tangle into Ren's hair, massaging Ren's scalp gently.

Ren sighted, relaxing. He melted down, became pliable and soft. Hux was pretty sure he would've started purring, was he able to.

"You always tell me the sweetest things," he said, with quiet amusement.

Hux considered rolling his eyes, but it seemed like too much work. "I didn't miss you lying down on me. You're way too heavy."

"You like it," Ren stated, burrowing deeper.

Hux wanted nothing more than shove him off, but if he tried, Ren probably wouldn't even budge. He really was too heavy for it. It was better to save his face and not try.

His fingers didn't stop their combing through Ren's hair.

He wasn't usually so gentle with Ren and if he was honest, he ought not to be. He already slipped by asking Ren to come to him when they were at the party, in plain view of everyone. As negligible as his attachment to Ren was, it wasn't something to be shown so openly. It made him look weak and could be easily used against him, if he really did care for Ren. Which, thankfully, he did not.

Caring for someone like Ren could be nothing more than a disadvantage.

Ren shifted, suddenly tense, like he sensed Hux's thoughts.

"What did the President tell you?" He asked.

"Nothing important," Hux said. He didn't particularly want to discuss his orders and plans with Ren. "Nothing you weren't told, I suspect."

"He's displeased with the victor's tour."

"It would be very surprising if he was pleased with it, considering the results. And you could have tried to contain your tributes more."

Ren grunted, unhappy with being called out.

"Since when do you care to discuss politics, anyway?" Hux continued.

"Since it keeps coming back to bite me in the ass."

"I could bite you in the ass," Hux said. He was very fond of that ass.

Ren groaned and hit Hux's tight. "You're an asshole."

"Yes, I believe that's our topic," Hux could hardly keep laughter out of his voice.

"Oh, fuck you," Ren growled. "No, really, I hate it when you're happy, you get so obnoxious."

"I'd rather fuck you, actually," Hux smirked.

"Shut up." Ren had hit him again. "What's up with that, anyway?"

Hux had opened his mouth, ready to state the obvious. Ren had hastily brought his hand up to close it.

"No! No, don't say it!" He whined. "Why are you like this. I meant your mood, you bastard. What are you so happy about."

Hux couldn't very well answer that with Ren's hand on his lips. So he licked it.

Ren furrowed his brows and brought his hand down. "No, I'm serious, it's very weird. What happened, did you murder someone?"

Hux rolled his eyes. "I can't be simply content?"

"You never are," Ren stated seriously.

"Maybe I'm happy you're back," Hux smiled charmingly. He'd really rather not have this conversation.

"Yeah," Ren scoffed. "Am I supposed to believe that? You're never happy to see me."

Only it wasn't quite true, Hux thought. He had grown fond of Ren, in his own way, like a favourite pet, and he did miss him. He liked having Ren like this, in private where no one could see them, and he didn't even mind all the affection Ren demanded outside of sex. It was more than he thought this fling with Ren could be, when it started, when he hated everything about Ren. And while he still found Ren irritating, an irrational, overgrown child, he had also gotten used to looking at all that beauty and power and calling it his.

Perhaps he hadn't seen the danger until it was too late.

Then again, Ren hardly had any place in politics. His presence in Hux's life wasn't truly detrimental, as long as it wasn't known. Sleeping with a victor wasn't the worst thing he had done. It could even look good, in certain circles. And Hux wouldn't allow this, whatever it was, to influence him in any way.

But he could influence Ren. He always did. And Ren's loyalty was not a disadvantage.

He made his voice as gentle and earnest and sincere as he could. "But I did miss you."

Ren's face slackened with surprise, eyes wide and unguarded. He clearly didn't expect to hear these words, and yet he didn't doubt their truthfulness. He may have wanted to believe them.

Hux didn't smirk, though he wanted to, and kissed Ren instead, softly and sweetly. Affection had always worked well on him, after all. And, a small part of his mind whispered, kissing Ren like this was not a hardship.

Maybe Hux would keep him.

  

* * *

 

Upping the terror on the Outer Rim planets was easy as Hux had expected it to be.

The unrest in the Galaxy was bigger than Hux had thought it was. Bigger than anyone thought it was, he suspected, as Snoke apparently did a good job with covering it up. But a slight adjustment to his plans could make it favourable. Could make them come into fruition quicker. It all worked very well so far.

The civilians didn't stand a chance against armed stormtroopers, especially with additional deployment, and making an example - a bloody one - of a few fools quickly discouraged anyone who thought otherwise. Even more discouraging was stopping the smuggling, officially to cut down on illegal weapon ownership. Unofficially it also took away all of the additional food and goods, when the people in the Outer Rim were on the verge of starving in the first place. Fighting for freedom suddenly didn't seem so important when one didn't have anything to eat.

The second leg of his plan was slightly more difficult. Parading the most recent victors around Coruscant was had been easy, of course, but getting them to act like they were enjoying it was another matter entirely. They weren't, strictly speaking, trying to sabotage Hux's orders, but they hadn't gotten any better at controlling themselves since the tour.

Finn was little more than a mouse, constantly afraid and trapped. He was quick to obey, if only because he could do nothing else. But Rey. Rey was gloriously angry, out of control, lashing out indiscriminately. It wasn't the righteous anger the rebellion needed, not when she behaved like a wounded animal, but on the screen it made a little difference. People still saw what they wanted to see.

Snoke saw it, too.

So Hux wasn't surprised by his summons, when they came.

Snoke was waiting for him in the same office as before, with almost the same pictures he had showed Hux weeks ago playing on a hologram before him.

"It doesn't quite seem like you're plan is working, Armitage," he said in lieu of greeting.

"President, sir-" Hux started, only to get cut off.

"I'm not interested in you excuses," Snoke sounded almost bored, his face the same waxen mask it always was, and yet Hux felt a cold dread go up his back. "It is quite clear to me you cannot contain one girl. But your plan was not without merit, so I am inclined to... overlook it."

Hux was still standing. He hadn't been asked to sit down.

"But there can be no room for failure," president continued. "The girl has to go. Her entire species has to go. The Games are useful, as a show. They give our people both a warning and a hope to see their fates change. To elevate themselves. But it seems to me the victors have outlived their usefulness. Perhaps they ought to be reminded. The elevated have a way to fall."

Hux closed his eyes briefly. He could feel the cold tendrils of fear, but he had to appear calm. Had to.

"Yes. But this... reminder should be served in a right way. For all our people to see," he said. There was no reason to be afraid. This was something he could control, and so there was no reason to be afraid.

"How," Snoke said, though it didn't sound like a question.

"You said it yourself, sir. The Games."

There was something not quite like a smile on Snoke's lips. "Ah, yes. Your speciality. Very well. Do what you do best, Hux. As long she dies."

"Believe me, president, there isn't anything I want more," Hux said. "But a little patience goes a long way. Let her get her hands dirty first."

"Yes," Snoke agreed. "I don't doubt she will discredit herself. But you will do well to remember: there will be only only one victor, this time."

Like Hux had been the one to forget that rule. It was what he wanted from the very beginning of this mess.

It was what he would get.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hux, baby, you are way over your head.
> 
> This story now has a [moodboard](http://dobranocka.tumblr.com/post/160511989873/moodboard-for-from-my-dreams-in-which-hux-is-a), because I like pictures.


	3. Hux II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the beta and hand-holding credit goes to [Marron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marron).

Hux found Ren in one of the training rooms, sitting amidst the wreckage.

"Did you know?" He asked when Hux had stepped in. His voice was hoarse, as if he had been screaming not so long ago. His knuckles were split open, blood painting his hands red. It looked painful, should be looked over by a medic. The bones in the hands were so delicate. They weren't made for such pressure.

There wasn't anything in the room left to destroy, Hux thought distractedly. No equipment, no weapons. Even Ren was a wreck, bloodied and useless. Hux knew better than to comment on that.

"Snoke didn't tell you?" He answered instead.

"No," Ren barked, looked to the side. He closed his fists, and then slowly unclenched them. It must've hurt, considering their state. Then he asked, "Was it yours idea?"

Hux felt unsettled, and very grateful for the distance between them.

"The President," he started, choosing his words carefully, "has very strict expectations."

"That's a yes, then," Ren said, looking straight at him. "You must be really proud of yourself."

Hux hesitated. This wasn't how he wanted this conversation to go. He wasn't sure how he wanted it to go. What he even wanted to say.

He didn't know why he came here.

Ren continued looking at him in silence, his gaze steady and unnerving.

"So what's the next phase of your great plan," he said after a while. It wasn't a question. "I suppose you already have the arena planned. The victors, too?"

"Don't," Hux snapped, "be melodramatic. The tributes haven't even been chosen yet." There was no reason for Ren to be so upset, and certainly not with Hux. If he wanted to blame someone, then he should blame Snoke, he was the one to discard his victors like broken toys.

"Really," Ren drawled, "Will it be very surprising?" He smirked, mocking.

He was right, of course. Out of thirty victors only twenty eight were alive, and there were twenty four tributes in every Games. There would be little surprise in this Games' reaping. And very little chance Ren wouldn't be reaped.

Hux didn't think he should feel guilty about this.

"I rather thought that you would jump at the chance to fight for the glory of the Republic," he said. "Unless you are doubting the President's judgement?"

"Of course not," Ren scoffed. "I'm just doubting yours."

"And yet the President trusts me with this." Hux narrowed his eyes. He wasn't going to be questioned by Ren, who started all of this mess in the first place by screwing with the rules. "If you have concerns, you should take them up with him."

"And you're sure it's about trust?" Ren tilted his head. Back to the same empty expression and not blinking, like an ominous crow. A portent of bad luck, of unhappiness and death.

Quite right, looking at Ren's record.

"I have little reason to think otherwise," Hux enunciated cautiously. Did Ren know anything Hux didn't, to say this? He didn't think so, but maybe, if Snoke expressed his displeasure with him... Whatever the case was, he had to tread carefully. He couldn't give Snoke any reason to doubt his loyalty, not now. And whatever he said to Ren would surely make its way back to Snoke.

Ren stayed silent and unreadable, so unlike himself even amidst the remains of his rage. What did Ren want from him? Hux had never known, not for sure. Not when this whole thing started, not a year ago, and certainly not know, when Ren was acting so strange. When he wasn't angry and lashing out, throwing a tantrum and raging with uncontrollable emotions. When he seemed almost resigned.

And what did he want from Ren?

He didn't know. He didn't know, and he shouldn't want anything, and it was better to cut his losses early, before they could harm him. He shouldn't have come here.

He thought it would be easier, to calm Ren with touch and soft words, to get him where Hux wanted him. He had done so before, he hadn't considered this time could be different. Yet it was, and Ren wasn't acting like Ren, and Hux didn't think touching him would be a good idea. He didn't know what to do with Ren at all, and he didn't like not knowing.

"In any case," he said, "your opinion on the matter is inconsequential. You will do what the President requires."

"Yes, I thought you may say that," Ren agreed.

Like there was anything else to be said.

 

* * *

 

Hux didn't dwell on his conversation with Ren. He didn't have the time, and it was a mistake, after all. He shouldn't have sought him out, he gained nothing by it.

And there were too many things demanding his attention, anyway. All of them more important than Ren.

There was something very nearly insane in trying to change the Games set up so near to their start date; in trying to make them bigger, bolder, louder. More unforgettable. What had been prepared before just wouldn't do, not when the ones battling in the arena were all victors, beloved by Coruscant and other Inner Core worlds. There could be no expense spared, no detail overlooked. Not with the event this big.

Hux found his hands full. It was both exhilarating and exhausting, leaving with him little time to think of anything else. And if he did run beyond this year's Games in his thoughts, then it was to think of his own career and future, of all his carefully crafted plans coming into realization, of his impending success.

Certainly not of Ren.

Besides, the issues of choosing tributes were beyond him and fate both, as Snoke had helpfully provided a list of names of whom he had wished to see in the arena. Rey and Finn were on it, obviously, and so were Phasma and Ren. Hux had expected that; there was no reason to feel anxious about it. The other chosen tributes also weren't surprising, and he could already see a way things could play out in the arena. He planned the reaping, keeping it on Coruscant this time. There wouldn't be any choosing of planets this year and the Capitol's public had never seen this particular spectacle live before. Besides, it would be easier, even if drawing the names from a bowl was just formality.

He kept himself busy, planning everything that came after: the parade, the interviews, the final evaluation. It was all new ground, with the tributes already being a known and not someone to be introduced. He perfected the arena, adding traps and twists, little surprises of his own invention. He kept up with the public, from still fiery riots of the Outer Rim to the increasingly heavy atmosphere on Coruscant, where air hummed with anticipation. It seemed like everyone expected a change.

And so he didn't have time to think or see anyone. Unfortunately, he also didn't have any time to be seen, or even chat with the sponsors, which was less than ideal. He would've rather made sure the society remained enamoured with him, but that couldn't be helped. He supposed it was what Snoke had wanted, too.

And so he worked, and didn't think of Ren at all.

 

* * *

 

The reaping ceremony turned out well, if not at all thrilling. There weren't any unexpected volunteers or crying children, the past victors behaving utterly predictably. The ones who were careers, which meant most of them, went smiling and triumphant. The rest of them were more subdued, but not outright hostile. Phasma carried herself with decorum, as always, though maybe she wasn't as, well, enthusiastic as a career should be. Finn just looked terrified and helpless and sad, even as Rey stayed defiant and seemingly unmoved. But this was the Capitol. There would be no rioters in a crowd, no displays of solidarity. The tributes were never of Coruscant.

And the only person who didn't behave as Hux had predicted was Ren, who remained stoic and detached. He looked like he didn't care or like this whole event was beneath him. It was very unlike the Ren Hux had known, Ren who was passionate and volatile, who breezed through his first Games with fury and blood. Hux didn't think he would ever see Ren subdued.

It was unnerving, to see Ren thus. Hux felt like he couldn't read him, and he wasn't used to the feeling. And still, he didn't doubt Ren was the person most likely to come out of these Games alive.

There was no one quite like Ren.

But it still worried Hux, this sudden unpredictability of Ren's behaviour. He didn't know what it meant or why it came, and how would it continue, and whether it would continue in the arena. Ren was often irrational, and his attachment to the girl was strange and inexplicable, but Hux could usually predict the way Ren's irrationality would go. But he couldn't now and he didn't like it.

And yet he didn't have time to waste on the issue he couldn't control. Ren would go into the arena and he would do as he pleased in it. It was out of Hux's hands, and dwelling on things he couldn't change simply wouldn't do when there was still so much to do now.

The final evaluation of the tributes, Hux thought, would be a mere formality. He knew all of them, after all, and he already estimated their final scores and what they would present. But the interviews with Watto were another matter entirely.

What the tributes said there mattered, now more than ever. This time they weren't trying to introduce themselves to Coruscant, but instead were her brightest stars saying their goodbyes. And they were furious, they didn't want to be dragged out into another arena. Hux didn't doubt they would lash out and Watto, the fool he was, would fail to stop it.

But lashing out suited Hux, so he wouldn't stop it, either. If the people of the Capitol ended up being upset with the Games because of it, then it was all the better for him. He didn't need the public happy with Snoke, quite the contrary. He only needed the Games to take place, and take place they would, no matter what anyone else did.

He still watched the interviews carefully.

Hux thought, with the morbid amusement, that Rey hadn't been so wrong in her assessment of him. He was the one always watching from behind the screen and always pulling the strings.

On the stage Watto was dancing around, laughing loudly at his own bad jokes and behaving like a peacock. Hux didn't envy the tributes having to tolerate the man and talk to him. He was rather grateful to be spared from it, this time.

The audience still drunk up Watto's every word, no matter how foolish it was. They were idiots, of course, blinded by bright lights and caring only about gossip. The more foolishness, drama and blood you threw at them, the happier they were.

Hux, out of all people, would know all about it. He was the one providing them with entertainment.

"...and now, here we will meet twenty four of the Galaxy brightest stars," Watto was saying loudly, "but we will not talk to twenty three of them ever again. Only one, the boldest and brightest, will remain. Isn't it exciting?!"

Hux wished the man would choke on his excitement.

The victors paraded on the stage one after another, beautiful rare creatures, nearly extinct. They told Watto increasingly outrageous sob stories, how much they would miss Capitol, how sad they were to go, how they wished it could be different... The audience ate it all up, had laughed and cooed and wept for them, and only gotten more excited about the Games for it.

It was as Hux thought it would be.

And then there was Ren.

Ren, who looked beautiful and otherworldly, whom audience greeted with tremendous applause. Who smiled charmingly at Watto, and tilted his head in that way of his, and blinked, and said nothing of consequence. No, he wasn't afraid or sad or heartbroken. He didn't feel nervous. He didn't think to say any goodbyes.

"Oh Watto," he said instead, "do you really think this is the last time we will see each other?"

Hux's hand curled into a fist.

The rest of the interviews looked timid and unimportant in comparison.

Until the last one. The scavenger.

Rey, with little make up and simple hairdo, looked undeniably beautiful. But her dress, dark grey and inspired by the outfit she wore so long ago on Jakku, the first time the Galaxy had set eyes on her, looked more like an armour than anything else.

It was not a look of a tribute or a victor. It was a look of a soldier.

"Well," Watto started, "the choice of your outfit is certainly interesting, if a little unconventional. But then again, your stylist never cared much for conventionality, did he?"

"No," Rey answered without any emotion in her voice, "I can't imagine he ever did."

"So tell me," Watto continued, "aren't you a little afraid of going into the arena again? With Finn, whom you love so dearly, and with whom you will have to fight again? I'm very disappointed we won't see a happy end to your story, I must admit."

"I'm not going to fight Finn," Rey stated.

Watto flinched, surprised and unprepared. "No?" He asked reflexively.

"No. I'm not going to fight Finn, or anyone else you tell me to, and you can't make me. I'm not afraid of you, and I won't ever be afraid of you anymore. You can't do anything to me."

Watto stayed silent. Horrified.

"After all," Rey said, ugly smile on her face, "what do I have to lose that you have not taken from me already?"

 _You have not even began to learn how much can be taken from you_ , Hux thought with a quiet certainty.

"Get her off that stage," he bit into an intercom.

The lights went off, hiding both Rey and Watto's astounded reaction, while she was rushed off to join the rest of the tributes, and yet the angry murmurs of the audience continued. And they only grew, discontent and confused, when Rey stood with the other victors. It wasn't hard to see why.

Up on the stage, the tributes were holding their hands, in one big cycle. Hux wondered how long that fraternity would last.

 

* * *

 

"I should have her executed right now," Snoke bit out furiously. "What does she think she is, untouchable? She won't ever defy me again."

"No, she won't," Hux said calmly. "But executing her now will only make her a martyr. Let her into the arena. If she refuses to fight, it's all the better, she will be dead in the first five minutes. But she won't be giving anyone any cause to fight for."

Snoke was looking at him, face twisted in a grimace, and yet it still resembled a funeral mask.

"I want her dead," he said. "I want all of them dead."

"Yes," Hux said.

 _I rather gathered you did_ , he thought.

The whole conversation with Snoke was pointless, a little more than a tantrum thrown by a man who didn't know what to do in the face of losing control.

It was no wonder Ren was so childish, if this was the man he was trying to emulate.

The Outer Rim was burning, the people everywhere were increasingly unhappy with him, and little Rey, no more than a child, had publicly defied him again. And yet all Snoke could do was rage and spit, and do nothing.

Which was just as well, for Hux.

"Mitaka," he said, once he left the meeting with the president and could finally do some work with his staff. "The girl's stylist, Dameron. He made that costume, didn't he?"

"I'd assume so, sir." Mitaka looked at him nervously, unsure what answer was he expecting to a question so obvious.

"It was rather bold, wasn't it?" Hux didn't wait for an answer. "Not very suitable for a tribute. Not very... subservient."

Mitaka nodded.

"Please arrange for a meeting with Mr Dameron after the Games start. Just... don't tell him before," Hux said.

 

* * *

 

The Games were going to start tomorrow.

The Games were going to start tomorrow, and Hux's hands were shaking, and he couldn't get them to stop. He didn't know why, or he knew but didn't want to think of it, and either way it didn't matter, because there was no reason for it, but he couldn't stop it, and it only grew worse the more he thought of it.

He asked Ren to come. He shouldn't had, but he did. He wanted to see him, and he didn't want this to be the last time he ever saw him, and somewhere in there was a realisation of unforgivable risk.

He didn't want Kylo Ren to die, and that was a weakness.

There were some things that could be taken away from you, and there were some things you had to give up in order to get what you wanted, and Hux wasn't sure in which of these categories Ren was.

He wasn't sure if it mattered, anymore.

And so here he was, hiding in his own apartment with shaking hands and waiting for someone who might yet not come. It wasn't how he thought it would be, on the cusp of his glory, when all of his dreams seemed so close, just within the grasp. But still, still out of reach, and maybe he was running towards something that could never be achieved.

Maybe it would all fall apart under his feet.

So he sat, and watched his hands shake, and waited.

Ren came quietly, as he was wont to do, a silent shadow moving on the wall. He stood before Hux, dark and unmoving.

"You wanted to see me," he said.

"Yes," Hux nodded. Reached out, tracing Ren's shape with his fingertips, like he was learning something or checking if what he saw was real. He opened his mouth, wanted to add something, hesitated. There still wasn't anything to say.

Instead he pulled Ren closer, this shadow in human form, and kissed him. Ren feel tangible under his hands, solid and real. Alive, with too quickly beating heart.

There was something very hungry in Hux, something that made him kiss Ren desperately, hard and quick, like he wanted to prove something. Ren tasted the same, and smelled the same, and was soft and real and mellow under Hux, and yet it wasn't enough. It wasn't enough when Hux tangled his hands in Ren's hair, or kissed red bruises upon the skin of his neck, or stripped him of all his dark layers, leaving him pale and lovely with nothing in between them. Ren's skin looked almost luminescent, and Hux could trace the map of the Galaxy on it, could mark it with his mouth and too tight grip of his hands, imprint himself in a way that couldn't be washed away. It still wouldn't be enough.

Hux would've liked to cut him up, open up his ribcage and nestle there, make a space for himself in between Ren's beating heart and heaving lungs.

But Ren would leave. Would go into arena and if something went wrong, if he made a mistake, then Hux wouldn't get to hold him again. It was a possibility he had accepted, and yet...

And yet he wouldn't like it to pass.

And for all his desperation Hux knew there was something different about this, something hesitant and almost tender. Even as he pressed into Ren, fucked him deep and fast and to the point of pain, pressed bruises into Ren's hips. Even as he bit Ren's neck, licked a line on his collarbone, clasped at his ribs. He didn't want to hurt Ren, not this time. He wanted to keep him, and that made it worse.

Hux wondered whether Ren would think of this, in the arena, would press on the marks on his neck or beard burn on his thighs and remember this. Or if he would ignore the aches, focused on cutting his way to victory, and not think of him at all. Did Ren even think of him, outside of this room?

"What are you thinking of?" Ren asked quietly. His fingers, feather light, were playing with Hux's hair. Soothing, though he normally hated it when someone touched his hair.

"Nothing," Hux said, and kissed Kylo's temple, the corner of his eye. "Nothing important," he repeated, and buried his head in the crook between Ren's neck and shoulder. Kylo smelled the same as he always did, the sharp tang of sweat with a heavy, earthy undertone, like a wet moss and bark. He was still heavy and solid underneath Hux, breathing evenly. There were marks on his skin only Hux knew about, scars and moles bruises, blue shapes of veins underneath like maps. The smell and taste of him, that was Hux's, too, just like the silky feel of his hair or the pleased sounds Ren made when petted. There were pieces of Ren only Hux learned, that belonged to him just as surely as the knowledge and control of his creations, of arena, of the Games.

That would still belong to him, no matter what happened tomorrow.

Hux could be content, for a moment, just thinking like this. Whatever would come to be, he would still have this, a constellation of stolen moments. And for now, he still had Ren. Here, warm and quiet, and without any words between them Hux could think of this as peaceful. There wasn't anything to say or do. He knew he wouldn't sleep, knew there were some parts of him that wouldn't quiet down, some restlessness that wouldn't settle and a hunger for more. But for now he had Ren in his arms, if for a few more hours, and he could be content. It would have to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was hoping to get this chapter out a little earlier, but I got distracted by the Eurovision ficlet, which figures. I am also unsure about how I feel about this one, because it got weirdly poetic at the end which I hadn't planned. I don't know if it works.
> 
> In any case, I'll be hiding at [tumblr](http://dobranocka.tumblr.com/).


	4. Phasma

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Million thanks to [Marron](http://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Marron/works), for being endlessly patient with me and making this 100% better by beting.

The news of the changed rules for the 30th Games - of choosing the tributes from the still living Victors - spread through Coruscant like fire. It also caught Phasma entirely off guard. She didn't expect it. It might've been stupid of her, but she thought herself safe. Safe and free of the burning blood on her hands.

She didn't, couldn't see this coming, and she wanted to know why the rules changed. Needed to know why and so some primal, childish part of her howled about how unfair it was, because she has gotten out, and going in again wasn't part of a deal, and why was this happening...

There wasn't really anyone she could ask.

She found Ren instead, the day after she heard it. She doubted he would give her any answers, but she still wanted to know, and there wasn't anyone else. The irony of seeking out the help from someone as powerless as she was, someone unstable and habitually hiding out in the violence of training centres, was not lost on her.

There weren't any answers to be found here, nothing of worth to be gained.

Ren didn't look in the mood for conversation, when she found him. His hands were tightly wrapped in bandages and she wondered what he had trashed this time.

"Did you know of this?" Phasma asked.

"No." Ren's answer was curt, delivered in a monotone. He didn't even look at her.

"And Snoke didn't say anything to you, before?" She knew she was pressing, but this felt too urgent, too important not to press, because Snoke must've said something, issued some kind of warning, something she missed, but maybe could fix.

"No." Again, in the same tone.

"Why is he doing this," Phasma said, knowing she sounded almost desperate. For the moment she didn't care.

Ren didn't say anything, this time, only looked at her like the answer to that was obvious. It was, and she knew it. She still hoped to hear something else, but Ren only looked tired and resigned and as unhappy as she wished she wasn't.

Not long after she left him she wondered whether she was seeking any answers or just the company of someone as lost as she was.

 

* * *

 

Phasma had always considered herself loyal to the Republic - she was a Victor and a career, and she'd never wanted to be anything else. She fought and bled, and clawed her way to the top as a reminder that empires were built on strength, not compassion, and weakness could not be allowed in their own ranks. It had been a painful lesson, but one she had accepted long ago. Had she failed, she would've deserved her death in the Games.

She hadn't failed.

Loyalty, Phasma thought, was not the same thing as blindness. She believed in the Republic and she believed in the purpose of the Games, but she didn't believe in mindless slaughter. She refused to just lay her head down and wait for the sword, just to pay for someone's else sins. There was no lesson to be learned when she was to be executed for following the rules, and no purpose besides proving the extent of one man's power and whims.

Phasma was a Victor, supposed to spend the rest of her life in all the comforts of the Capitol. A lifetime of servitude in exchange for luxury and glory, she could accept. But not this.

She wanted to live. She had very little chance of living through these Games.

If she phrased it like this the decision she should make was quite clear. Orders should only be obeyed when they served a greater purpose. Her loyalty was to the First Order Republic, not to Snoke, and she had already served the Republic. If the President disregarded the rules on which the Games were built then she could do it too.

It wasn't like she had a problem with it before this.

But making a decision was not the same as finding a solution. She didn't want to die, and so she had to find a way to get out.

Running away before the Games started was impossible; the security around the Victors turned tributes was too high to even attempt it, and even if she had, there was nowhere she could run to where the Order couldn't find her. Hoping for the Games to be cancelled was a fool's dream from the beginning; Snoke wouldn't back down and show any weakness, certainly not with the entire Outer Rim in uproar. Perhaps it was possible to force him to resign from the office and undo the Games, but she didn't have enough political power to do it. She didn't think there was anyone who had, not when Snoke guarded power so jealously, and even if, it wouldn't be doable on such a short schedule.

The only viable option was, therefore, to influence the Games themselves. Phasma had done so before, but this would've to be bigger than a temporary change of rules. Much bigger, permanent, and done against the President's wishes - a thing like that was entirely beyond her means.

Luckily for her she knew a person who made the Games – the person who could tear them apart if he wished.

Hux had been preoccupied since they came back from the tour, working long hours and making little appearance at any social gatherings. It was odd, even for him, and likely had been going on since before she and Ren left, though she hadn't been there to seen it. She'd been busy trying to coach Finn and Rey, which didn't do anyone any good, and probably not paying as much attention as she should've had. Hux had been the one in charge of media coverage of that tour, besides planning the next Games. He might've been in charge of downplaying the protests, too. If he had, he hadn't done a very good job. But somehow she doubted it was all he had been doing.

Hux's ambitions were always greater than his reach.

Last year's Games, with his Starkiller arena, were Hux's greatest triumph, making him one of the most powerful people in the Capitol, proving his ability to sway the public. And a greatest failure, because the survival of two victors put him at odds with Snoke. He should've been executed for making that call, and yet he lived.

In any case, Hux was her best bet. He was vindictive enough to want to discard Snoke's plans. And maybe, just maybe sentimental enough to resent the new rules. It was a glimmer of hope, but Phasma could work with that.

 

* * *

 

Hux's office was sleek, modern and immaculately clean. Made with chrome and blue glass with more screens than walls, it mostly felt claustrophobic. It hardly looked like anyone spent any time here, which was mostly correct. Phasma knew he didn't work from here often, preferring to terrorize his crew by looking over their shoulders. The man had a serious problem with micromanaging everything.

He was here now, though, typing furiously at a datapad.

"Not now, Phas," he said as soon she walked in, not looking up. "I'm too busy for your chattering, come bother me later."

That, too, was odd. Hux almost never called her Phas, in all the years she knew him, using her full name instead. She had seen him drink his weight and still act like there was a stick up his ass, playing up his professional persona. He looked haggard now, tired like he hadn't slept in days and almost dishevelled. Too pale and drawn up, with tight lines around his eyes and mouth.

Phasma wondered how much he knew, and how much he had done. How much control he had over the Games, and how much of what was happening was his idea.

"Can't spare a moment for an old friend?" She asked. "I may not have a later, you know."

"Don't even start, you sound as dramatic as Ren does." Hux visibly rolled his eyes, still preoccupied with his datapad. "You haven't even been reaped yet," he added, seemingly unconcerned with the possibility.

Hux, Phasma thought, could be a cold, unfeeling asshole and deserved all the dramatics Ren gave him.

Well, at least she didn't have to bother and beat around the bush with him, he wouldn't appreciate it anyway. She could go straight to the point, without worrying about security. If there was one place in the Capitol that wasn't bugged, it would be Hux's office.

"You're planning something," she said, sitting before him. "I want in."

Hux looked up at her, a little surprised and possibly alarmed.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said, putting down his datapad.

"Hux." Phasma stared at him, unimpressed. This wasn't a time to be playing twenty questions. "Armitage. Look at me."

He did, and grimaced, and then took a bottle of whisky out from underneath his desk.

"I have no intention of dying because Snoke threw a pissing fit," Phasma continued. "And I'm asking you to help me not die. Can you help me?"

"You're very straightforward today, you know. No regard for social graces," he said, filling their glasses.

"Quit fucking around," she snapped, barely stopping herself from rolling her eyes in turn. "And answer my damn question."

"Yes," Hux said, and Phasma felt relief feel her like a flood. She's hoped, but she didn't know, not for sure.

If she had guessed wrong, they would've had a very different conversation right now.

She took the offered glass and downed most of it in one go. Hux's alcohol was the good kind, of course, going down smoothly and setting her insides on fire. It was undoubtedly expensive and meant to be savoured, not drank like that.

Hux refilled her glass without a word.

"I may be able to help, somehow," he started. He spoke slowly, clearly minding his words. If it was anyone else, she would've thought them hesitant. "But just influencing someone won't be enough, not this time. What I may be able to do... it could be called treason. You know that."

"Yes," Phasma had already made her choice.

She took another sip and considered Hux's answer. He acquiesced remarkable quickly and it seemed he already had an idea on how to get out of this mess.

"How long have you been planning this?" She asked.

Hux didn't even pretend to look started. "A while." He shrugged, and seeing her glare continued. "Since the last Games. Snoke fucked up, Ren's little change of rules was idiotic. The protests would've broken out even without my help."

Phasma thought it was a good thing Hux didn't know about her own involvement in that little change of rules. He wouldn't forgive her that as easily as he forgave Ren. "And you decided to use that."

"Obviously." Hux tapped his fingers on the desk, nails hitting the glass. "It's better than taking the fall for him."

"And reaping the victors? Is that your idea, too?" Phasma would rather think Hux wasn't the one to think of it, but she wouldn't put it past him.

"No," he said quickly. Maybe too quickly.

"Then why are we here, Hux?"

"Well, I didn't think things would go this far." He finally decided to drink his own whisky. "The protests were supposed to weaken Snoke, but I didn't think he would be as incompetent as he's proving to be. Reaping tributes from the victors is a folly. It won't frighten the Outer Rim; they hate you there and they don't care."

"They hate you more," Phasma added hopefully.

"Oh, I don't think they know me," Hux smirked. "I'm hardly as popular as you are, Phas."

"In any case, this isn't doing anyone any good," he continued. "The only thing it will accomplish is more riots and loss of influence, this time in the Inner Rim. They love you here, they're not happy to hear of this. The President is looking desperate and foolish and there is little he can do to change that."

"Snoke is done for, and I don't intend to go down with him. So we-" He raised his glass in her direction. "-are going to defect."

The ice in Hux's glass chattered softly when he put it down. Phasma watched him carefully and considered. He could be lying, she had no true way of knowing that. But it could be the truth, or as close to the truth as she was going to get. She wasn't surprised at the admission of the treacherous intent. She suspected as much, and there was a reason Snoke wanted Ren to keep an eye on Hux. And it would be just like him, to overplay his hand like that, chasing his own ambitions.

"Defect where?" She asked.

"The Resistance."

Phasma snorted. "You are way over your head, Hux."

"And do you have a better idea?" He raised an eyebrow on her, mocking.

"Any idea," Phasma said, and this time didn't stop herself form rolling her eyes, "would be better than joining a ragtag army of idealists. Be serious for a moment, Hux, the Resistance is nothing more than a bunch of fanatics fighting for a lost cause. Besides, they've been vocally against the Games. They've called you a monster for sending children to their deaths in their little propaganda videos. How do you know Organa won't execute you on sight, on a principle?"

"I may be able to give her something that she wants."

"Something that she wants," Phasma repeated.

"Yes," Hux said, clearly unwilling to elaborate.

"Well, then. Let's suppose it works." She decided to humour him. "We join the Resistance, they welcome us with open arms, and then what? We hide on some little backwater moon for the rest of our lives?" Like this could ever be something Hux decided to do. He would sooner see all of them dead than willingly fade into obscurity.

"We overthrow Snoke," Hux said, like it was the most obvious thing.

Phasma almost choked on her whisky.

"How? The Resistance has been trying to do that for years." But it did sound more like him. The sheer audacity of coming up with it...

"Well, they're not us, are they?" Hux snorted. "Resistance had been fighting a losing battle no one had believed in, which of course is very noble, but extremely unwise. But they persisted, did they not? And the circumstances are different now. Never before there had been such unrest in the Republic."

"One you had nothing to do with," she added. All of this was falling very neatly for Hux.

"Well, I helped a little," he admitted. "So did you, for that matter. But most of it is our little star-crossed lovers - they gave people such hope. And hope is a dangerous thing. A thing many are willing to fight for. To die for."

"Hope. You're giving Organa hope."

Hux nodded. "I can get her something people will rebel for. Are rebelling for. Normal people, not her fanatical followers. And there are riots in the Mid Rim, Phasma. This is no longer something easily stopped."

She sighed.

Hux was, predictably, right. Put like that, it wasn't that much of a stupid idea. People really were ready to fight and follow Rey and Finn. She had seen in on the tour and it was a the main reason this Games were going to include them in the first place. This might be her best shot at survival, if Hux had anything more than a rough idea.

"And how are we going to get off the planet before the Games start?"

"We're not." Hux didn't miss a beat. "I need you to go into the arena with these kids."

"You're crazy," she hissed. "I just told you I don't want to die and now you want me to what, go there and die horribly enough to anger my fans?"

"I can get you out of the arena," Hux said slowly. "All of you. Straight into Leia Organa's loving arms. As long as you stay together and don't die for a few days."

"How." She wasn't quite sure she was ready to believe him just yet.

"You don't need to know that."

Phasma opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off. "No, I'm serious, you don't. It's better if you don't know. I can get the Resistance and I can get you out, as long as you ensure the kids' cooperation. Other tributes too, if you can convince them, it will look better if there's more of you defecting. Not everyone, obviously, but I'm sure you will be able to get allies. Just trust me on this, Phasma."

She wasn't sure she could.

"You don't have any other option," Hux said softly.

That much was true.

"Yes," she said, "yes, okay. I agree."

She downed her whole glass again. This way she had some hope at least, she thought bitterly.

"You're wrong, you know," she said. "Snoke is getting something out of this. He's punishing you. The only reason he hadn't executed you after Starkiller is that no one else could sell this story in his favour. And now he's punishing you."

"By making me do his job for him?" Hux asked, indignant. "Some punishment. But fuck if I know what Snoke thinks. Maybe he thinks this is a reward."

"He's taking Ren away from you," Phasma said, undeterred.

Hux stilled, then snorted. "Then it's definitely a reward."

"He knows you're disloyal," she continued, ignoring him. "And so he takes away the only thing he can hold over you. What, you think he won't be reaped? Snoke wouldn't miss such occasion. Oh no, he will go into that arena and this time he won't be surrounded by children. This time he may not walk away."

Hux stayed silent. He drank his whisky, slowly, looking almost bored. Of course he thought of this before.

Good. She wanted this to hurt him, wanted him to chew on that knowledge like one may poke an unhealed wound, waiting for it to fester.

"Does he even know?" Phasma asked. "About this little plan of yours?"

"Obviously not," Hux drawled.

"Well, it may be harder to keep him alive if he doesn't know," Phasma wondered aloud. "Harder to keep him with us for a few days. But perhaps doable. He likes Rey, after all. And he likes me."

"You like him, too, for whatever reason," Hux pointed out unhappily.

"I'm not the one fucking him." She wasn't the only one with something to lose here.

Hux grimaced, but for once didn't negate it.

"He's a walking bomb with a direct line to the person you loathe the most and yet you still couldn't stay away."

"Oh, I know," Hux said mournfully.

Phasma smiled. Well, who knew, it might just work.

 

* * *

 

 

Finn and Rey were dismayed from the moment they heard about the new rules. Terrified, keeping each other even closer than before. But they weren't even remotely surprised to be reaped.

Unamo, though, had been very upset.

"Well, this is quite unusual," she said, maintaining her usual facade of calmness. She was, after all, from Coruscant, and Phasma knew she could be as fake as the rest of it.

"I never thought I'd be working with any tributes without a mentor," she continued, "but then again, I suppose none of you really need a mentor... Still, it is so highly unusual. This Games will be so different, and so much bigger, too. They spare no expense. You will be transferred to new quarters and there's a new training centre and I think the arena will be something new entirely..."

Unamo kept babbling, even though her voice cracked. Phasma contented herself with observing Rey, who was sprawled on one of the couches in the waiting area they've been contained to for a moment - they would be contained until they got out of that arena, if they got out, so she supposed they should get used to it. But the girl's face grew only more thunderous as Unamo talked.

"...and maybe we should get the four of you some sort of a token, to show you're a team. It would be well received by the viewers, I'm sure, and-"

"A team?" Rey asked in a low voice. Phasma didn't know if the girl was angry, surprised or both.

Unano stopped, startled. "Well, you are a team, are you not? We've worked well together so far, haven't we? These Games won't change that."

Phasma felt a fondness raise in her chest for this strange, pretentious woman who despite everything still felt a kinship with her tributes. She reached out. "Thank you."

Rey, on a cups of saying something scathing, no doubt, closed her mouth and looked to the side with a huff, falling back on a couch. But Finn, who always had been too kind and too caring, took Unamo's other hand with a nervous smile.

It was a nice moment, Phasma thought. It was nice to be able to touch someone else with affection, simply because she wanted to, despite everything. It would also be much easier to keep Finn and Rey alive if they could be convinced to think like this.

"And how long do you suppose being a team will last when we will have to kill one another?" Ren asked abruptly from when he was doing his best scarecrow impression and skulking in the corners, like anyone could forget he was here. Finn flinched at the sound of his voice, and then shrunk back into himself, letting go of Unamo's hand. Rey just scowled.

And this had been going so well.

"As long as we want to be one," Phasma said firmly, keeping her fingers wrapped around Unamo's wrist. Ren didn't say anything else, but Finn relaxed a little and Rey looked suddenly thoughtful, like she was sizing Phasma up for the first time. Phasma send her a small smile.

 _This_ , she thought, _might actually work_. It had to work. She too had something to fight for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I seem to have found the plot.
> 
> Come say [hi](http://dobranocka.tumblr.com)!


	5. Rey

There was anger thrumming underneath her skin all the time now.

Rey didn't know when it had started: after the Games (her first Games, there would be another, a voice in her mind corrected), or during, or on the tour, when she was looking and starving faces and lying through her teeth, or maybe it started before. Maybe it had been there all along, like a beast sleeping inside of her, ready to swallow her whole when it wakes.

In the end it didn't matter, she supposed. Whatever the cause was, she was furious. With the Games, with Capitol, with the President, with Ren and Phasma and Unamo, who stood by and made her bloody her hands. She was furious, and as long as she was furious, she wasn't afraid, because there was no room in her for anything but anger.

She knew that Finn had been afraid, for her and of everything else, and that Poe worried, but still, she couldn't let go of it. She didn't want to be subdued, to be made something she was not. And when Snoke had announced his new, special Games in which only victors would participate - when Snoke had effectively announced her and Finn's death sentences - the fury in her only grew, burning stronger within her.

It was exhausting, being so angry all the time - it made her moody and snappy and not quite herself. It was better when she was alone with Finn or Poe, when she could replace the fury with quietness and almost forget why they were doing here. But this moments grew fewer and fewer as the actual date of the Hunger Games came closer, until all she had left were stolen hours of the night.

It was time, she decided, to be done. Done playing by their rules, being the quiet, obedient puppet. She didn’t have anything to lose, no family to speak of, only Finn, and Finn would be coming into the arena with her. If she was to die, she might as well die on her own terms.

Poe had seemed to agree. He'd stopped trying to calm her down, to manage her somehow, and when he showed her the outfit he had made for the pre-Games interviews, she's thought, yes, yes this what I want. She was herself, a scavenger and a warrior, not a doll or a puppet, and she could look her part. She felt powerful.

This feeling, she'd learned, wouldn't last.

She stood with Poe in one of the tributes waiting room, minutes before the Games began. No one else had been allowed here, but at least she would see Finn again soon. Poe, though. She might not see Poe ever again. This was a goodbye, more than anything else.

Rey found herself shaking, with nerves or fear or anger. She didn't know which one it was.

"This material is lightweight and waterproof," Poe said, smoothing his hand over her outfit. "But the jacket is sturdy. Wherever you're going, it's not going to be overly warm. But not as cold as the last time."

Rey nodded numbly. She would know for sure in a few moments, anyway.

"Be smart, okay?" Poe hugged her. "I'm still betting on you both."

Rey clinged to him.

She took a breath, and then another, and then let it all out. She stepped out of Poe's arms and into a tube which would take her into the arena, waiting for the counting to start. Breathe, just breathe, she thought to herself.

"Ten seconds to launch," the automatic voice said from above her, and Rey took another breath. Poe smiled at her, warm and reassuring, as the tube closed around her.

The stormtroopers walked into a room from behind Poe. He started turning towards them, but one of them hit him over the head with a baton and he went down. Rey started screaming, banged her hands on the plastiglass surrounding her. Poe was unconscious as they dragged him from the room, and then she was moving, going up, and she still couldn't stop screaming.

The sunlight blinded her, still on her knees.

Breathe, just breathe, she reminded herself.

She stood up and took into her surroundings. She was surrounded by water - a lake, circular, with Cornucopia rising on the island in the middle.

She could barely hear the count down over the rush of blood in her ears and her own panicked laughter rising up.

She was on a lake and she couldn't swim.

There was no way she could've made it to Cornucopia before the bloodbath started, and even if she did, she wouldn't have made it out. She would be lucky to make it to the shore of the surrounding arena, which thankfully was a little closer to where her ejection point.

She wouldn't be able to grab any weapon.

"Happy Hunger Games. And may the odds be ever in your favour," the voice above her spoke in a cultured, Coruscanti accent.

Rey turned towards the forest and jumped into the freezing water.

 

* * *

 

 

She'd made it to the shore, somehow, coughing and spluttering. It hadn't been her most dignified moment, but she was still alive, at least, and she didn't have time to dwell on useless things if she wanted to stay alive. She stumbled into the surrounding forest. She had to put some distance between herself and other tributes.

She walked, trying to block her frantic thoughts and focus on what was in front of her. Everything had been happening so fast. She'd thought herself prepared for this Games, thought she knew what she was going into after the last year, but she had been wrong. Wrong, and arrogant, and she would get herself killed, just as she got Poe killed...

She stifled a sob. She didn't want to think of Poe, she has to focus on the now. He has been unconscious, not dead, but for how long? Branches kept hitting her face as she run. Where would they've taken him, was he even still breathing when they dragged him. She stumbled, almost fell, caught herself on a tree. There was no other reason for the Stormtroopers to hurt Poe, they did it because of her. She had to keep running. She had led Poe to his death, just as she would Finn, it was all her fault...

She had no idea how to find Finn.

She was walking alone, unarmed and half-drowned. It would be laughably easy to kill her now. Finn would be better off without her, with other allies.

"Rey!"

She almost jumped into the air at the sound of her own name, turning franticly and searching for something, anything she could use as a weapon.

Finn was standing before her, as wet as she was and out of breath.

Rey choked out a sob. She ran straight into his arms. He was here, alive and breathing, making shushing noises into her ear. He must've seen her, followed her into the forest, to have found her so fast. He couldn't have made it to Cornucopia and back in time, he must be as weaponless as she was. He shouldn't have done that; he knew how to swim, he could get something, anything, but now they were both defenceless and lost and Poe was dead.

She couldn't tell Finn about Poe.

Rey took a breath, then another, and calmed herself down. She was always able to think better when Finn was with her.

"You're here," she said, relieved despite everything. "You're here."

"Yeah." Finn was making little circles on her back with his hand. "I am."

Ren took a hold of herself and let go of him, took a step back. "We don't have anything. No weapons."

"Yeah, well, let's just keep moving for now, okay?" Finn suggested. "Find somewhere to dry before we both end up sick, find some water and shelter. We'll figure it out later."

Rey nodded, and breathed out.

 

* * *

 

 

They hid in the roots of one of the biggest trees, took turns sleeping. They spent hours walking around, twitching and alert, but there had been no sign of the other tributes. More worryingly, there was no sign of fresh water, so they were slowly getting more and more dehydrated. They found some edible fruit, and it helped, but it wasn't enough.

There were eleven canons that night. The Cornucopia must've been a bloodbath.

Rey slept pitifully, waking up at the slightest sounds. When the morning came she was groggy, tired and thirsty and sore, still cold from wearing wet clothes for hours. It was still better than last year, so at least there was that.

She gently shook Finn awake. "Finn. Finn, we have to get up. Let's find something to eat, yeah?"

They shuffled around quietly, trying to find the some more of yesterday's fruit. They've been small and sour, but it was better than nothing.

The forest was quiet around her. It would've been almost calming, if it didn't feel so unnatural. Even the desert hadn't been so quiet, the sands always shifting to their own melody. There ought to be more animals in a place so green, Rey thought, more life and sound. Instead it was still and so quiet, she thought she could hear her own heartbeat.

Maybe it was fitting. This would be a place of death, of sacrifice to a person fancying himself a god. Maybe it should be so still and quiet.

Her own steps seemed oddly loud, but she ignored it.  Being unnerved by something so silly had no place here, and she would find those fruits, and return to Finn, and then figure out what to do next. It would work out.

She crunched down near one batch and checked for the fruits. They were there, if too little for her liking, and she started picking them up, trying to listen for steps. Familiar, for Finn, and she would have to run if there were any other.

She heard growling instead.

It looked like a wolf, only she didn't think wolves could be so big. It was watching her intently, ready to pounce. And it was much, much too close.

Rey moved slowly, taking a step back and then another, keeping her eyes on a creature. Big, black and growling, and ready to leap.

And there was more of them.

Rey didn’t wait for it to jump. She turned and run. It was stupid of her. There was no way she could outrun wolves. But she was panicked, and terrified, and weaponless. And there was nothing else she could do.

She ran, and ran, and ran. Still not fast enough. And then she tripped, and fell, and stumbled down a slope, and didn’t manage to get up.

But there was no black mass on her, no teeth and claws and bloody, painful death.

Back on the hill, the wolves were growling and circling. But they were not running, as if they were kept back by an invisible line.

Rey breathed, and closed her eyes.

 

* * *

 

Rey woke up to the sound of steps.

She got up, quickly and quietly, already knowing it was too late. It had been so stupid of her, to fall asleep like that, even if she had been tired and hungry and hurting. They weren't Finn steps, and he wasn't back yet, and it was stupid of them to get separated. Stupid of him to follow her in the first place, because even if he was here, they would still have no weapons and then they would both end up dead. Will still both end up dead, most likely, but she wanted him to live so badly...

There was a man standing in between trees, few meters before her. She vaguely remember him form the training centre, but no details, not even a name. Middle aged, softer around the edges, out of shape. Probably one of the older tributes, which explained why he was alone and with no allies. He hadn't been expecting her, that much was clear, he looked as surprised as she was. But unlike Rey he had a sword.

"How are you not dead yet?" He asked, almost wonderingly. And then swung a sword in his hand right at her head.

Rey ducked. The blade swished above her head, inches away. The man shouted, enraged. Took another swing, blindly. She jumped back, much quicker than he was, and it was her chance.

Her foot slipped on landing, ankle twisting, and she fell.

He came upon her, face twisted in a triumphant smile. He raised his arm. Rey tried to scramble back, and...

He stopped. And then fell down on her.

There was a blade buried in his back. He was dead, Rey realized, and swallowed down a scream.

She heaved the body of herself, rolled to her feet and bolted backwards, panicky, searching out who had killed him...

Kylo Ren was standing a few meters away, in a clear line of vision, watching her like a prey. There was a broadsword in his hand.

"Still don't want to kill anyone?" He asked, cocky and full of himself and unmoved by the experience of ending someone’s life with a single gesture. He seemed more thrilled, high on the bloodshed and more lively than she'd ever seen him.

Rey took a few steps back.

She'd have to run, she thought. She was probably quicker than Ren, so it was her only chance, because she couldn't possibly take him on unarmed.

Ren shifted his gaze to the body, and then strode towards it. He didn't seem to pay her any attention, unconcerned with someone so helpless, so if she started now...

"Rey!"

It was Finn's voice.

"Rey!" He shouted again. "Rey, where are you?!"

Rey stayed very, very still.

Ren looked up on her, from where he crunched beside the dead man. He took a blade out of his bag and buried it in the ground to get rid of the blood. Calm, technical notions, like he had done it a thousand times before.

He possibly had.

"Aren't you going to answer him?" He asked.

Rey swallowed, ignoring the urge to shout out. "I didn't peg you for a type to throw knives," she said instead.

Ren shrugged. "It's one of Phasma's. She's somewhere behind, she'll catch up soon."

He straightened, suddenly too tall and looming. "And we've got something for you," he added with a smirk.

Rey opened her mouth, trying to think of something to say, and then quickly turned around when she heard steps. Finn's. He's finally caught up. She had to warn him.

Finn took one look at what was happening and moved for a sword still lying beside the corpse.

And Ren let him, stepping back. He didn't make any motions to attack, in fact, just looked at them both with amusement as Finn tried to stand in front of her, to put himself between her and the perceived danger. Rey didn't let him.

"Put the sword down, Finn," Phasma said, coming around from the trees behind Ren. She sounded put upon.

Rey wondered how they were both moving so silently, like ghosts. It wasn't hard to see how they've became victors, now when she'd seen them on the arena. They were just like the wolves she and Finn were running from.

Finn looked nervously from Ren to Phasma and back again, but didn't lower his newfound blade.

Phasma sighed, and then turned to Ren. "You stole one of my knives."

Ren just flicked it in response.

Phasma rolled her eyes, clearly annoyed, and then turned to Rey. She ignored all of Finn's protective posturing.

"I brought you a staff," she said. She slowly unstrapped it from her back, signalling her intent, and then threw it at Rey.

Rey caught it reflexively. It was made of some kind of metal, light with a good balance. It felt surprisingly right in her hands. Fitting.

She didn't know why Phasma gave it to her.

"We knew you didn't make it to Cornucopia," Phasma said, answering Rey's unasked question. "So Ren got it for you.  And then made me carry it," she added, glaring at him.

Ren scowled, like he wanted to refute either of those statements. Or both of them. But Phasma hadn't waited for his answer.

"I was afraid we wouldn't make it to you in time, before anything attacked you," she said, and when she looked at Finn her eyes were soft.

"Well, yeah, we're both still alive." Finn was still nervous, poised for an attack. Rey didn't blame him. She felt the same.

"Barely," Ren scoffed.

Rey bit back an instinctual, angry retort. He did save her life, even if she didn't know why, and it was better not to aggravate him yet. If Phasma and Ren wanted to play friends, it was better to humour them for the time being. Survival would have to come before her own misgivings.

"I should probably thank you for that," she said instead. "It was timely."

Ren, for a minute, looked almost surprised. Then he was back to his usual ominous presence.

"It's a good thing we're allies," he said.

"We are?" Finn asked, and then looked at her, clearly panicked.

"Yes," Phasma stated, nodding. She sounded very sure. "We are."

"What, you don't want to be?" Ren had turned to Finn, unsheathed blade still in his hand.

"No!" Finn squeaked. "No, it's fine. We're allies. Absolutely. We're totally allies."

Well, Rey thought, they didn't seem to have much choice in the matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Marron for reading through this.


	6. Kylo

In the end, being back on the arena felt like a relief.

It was funny, Kylo thought, because he had dreaded it before. The thought of it alone filled him with rage and cold, choking fear, the kind that gripped by the throat and left place for nothing else. He couldn't even remember what happened after he heard... after Snoke told him that yes, it was true, the tributes would be reaped from the victors this time – wouldn't that be a spectacle - and then, hours later, after he'd finished destroying the room and himself, and Hux found him, Hux who must've known and lied, who probably planned this, Kylo didn't think he would ever feel so betrayed again, but he did. He was.

He was afraid then, stupidly, for himself and Rey and Phasma and even Rey's boy. As if he hadn't learned a long time before how useless fear was, when all that happened had been set in motion long before.

And now. Now, when he was actually in the arena, he wasn't afraid. It was almost calm, and it gave him focus. He knew what he was doing here, even if Phasma would complain about his non-existent survival skills.

He hadn't need them, years ago, when he was thrown on the arena the first time. He had been still skinny and oversized back then, always feelinglike he would trip over his own legs in a moment, but it hadn't mattered. Later Snoke had told him how perfect he was, how he seemed to be made to do this, to be a tribute. To murder children, until only he remained. He hadn't needed survival skills back then; his Games had barely lasted three days.

But these Games were entirely different.

It was obvious from the moment all tributes emerged to find themselves standing on a lake,  looking at Cornucopia stand in a middle of it, like a mocking offering. The whole arena looked and felt different, and Kylo wondered how proud Hux was of himself because of it.

But a countdown was not a place for such thoughts. Kylo couldn't see Phasma from where he was, but that didn't matter. They would find one another and work together, until one of them died or they had to kill one another, which was not something Kylo was looking forward to, even if it was unavoidable. But they had to survive this first.

He couldn't see Rey either, though that might've been a good thing. He hoped she had enough sense to stay away from the island.

Kylo dove straight for it when the countdown finished. There were weapons and supplies they would need. And he had no reason to be afraid of a bloodbath.

He killed the first tribute before he's even gotten out of the water and another one immediately after, breaking his neck without even looking who it was. He grabbed a sword, then, and everything seemed much easier. He knew how to do this.

Maybe Snoke was right. Maybe he was made for the Games.

A fight like this was a pure chaos, and yet he thrived. He didn't know how many tributes he had killed or wounded, and he wasn't even sure if he wasn't wounded himself. He didn't think beyond next slash of his sword. He caught a glimpse of Phasma, already armed with knives. There was something golden around her arm. Maybe it distracted him too much, because he lost his footing on the slippery stones of Cornucopia, almost stumbled, and suddenly there was a man advancing on him, with a strike he knew he wouldn't be quick enough to parry.

And then the ground moved.

The island spun, and everything fell before his eyes. He grabbed onto rocks and waited for it to stop, and when it did the only tributes left on the island were him and Phasma.

There was no sign of a man who'd almost killed him.

Kylo realized, with a growing sense of disbelief, that this time he also had the arena itself on his side. He laughed hysterically.

He didn't think Hux was so sentimental.

Phasma gave him a look, disgruntled and pissed off, but she didn't say anything about his decidedly odd behaviour. Maybe it was expected from him.

They busied themselves with collecting supplies and choosing the best weapons. There was little to say, not until they were in a safer place. But they didn't know if they would be able to return to the island, and so they had to be careful in what they choose to take with them.

Kylo knew his weaknesses.

He let Phasma take charge, to decide where they would go to find food and spend the night and how to find their protégés, who hadn't made it to the island. He was quite content to fight and choose their weapons and kill anyone who dared to came too close. That, he was good at. Tracking two scared teenagers in an artificial forest, not so much.

But they've found Rey and Finn within two days, if barely in time to find them still alive - though that, of course, might've been Hux's doing. Such dramatic rescues would look good on camera.

Two days in and less than half the tributes still alive. Not too bad, he supposed.

 

* * *

 

There were two more canons that night.

Less than ten of them left. Less than ten of them to kill.

They were all thinking it, Kylo knew. Counting it in their heads and wondering when the moment to turn on their allies would come, eyeing one another to check if someone else hadn't thought of it first. It was what Snoke wanted. It was why Hux had send them here.

Rey was glaring at him constantly, angry and sullen, and tried to always stay between him and Finn. It was smart of her, if she wanted the boy to live. She seemed to trust Phasma more, for some reason. Maybe she just thought Phasma would give them a courtesy of a warning before silting their throats. Or believed she was less likely to go on homicidal rampage.

That was only partially right. Kylo thought of Phasma as friend and trusted her to watch his back while he slept, but he had no doubt she valued her own survival more than anything else.

It made for an awkward and tiring night, with Finn passing out and Rey refusing to sleep while he was unconscious, though she barely could keep herself awake. All of them were dehydrated and half-starved by now, but it seemed especially true for those two. Kylo and Phasma had supplies from Cornucopia, and they were also fully grown adults. Of course they could handle it all better. Rey may not have liked it, but her protests were baseless; she simply needed sleep more than they did.

Sleep did little to improve her attitude, though.

"So what now," she asked in the morning, still sullen and visibly distrustful. The sun usually suited her, made her look golden, but this time it just highlighted how unwell she looked, with ashen skin and red eyes. Her hair was visibly unwashed and fell limply in front of her eyes. Her clothes were dirty and there was dried blood on her hands. She must've scratched them somewhere.

She looked nothing like a girl she was a few days ago on Coruscant. But now there was little glamour to any of them, Kylo thought.

"Let's find fresh water," he suggested. "You could use a wash."

"Yeah," Rey scowled, back to being antagonistic. "Because clearly that's the most important thing right now. Forget not getting killed, just remember to look nice."

"I'm sure your smell will kill us soon enough," Kylo said, shrugging. He didn't care much for arguing with her.

"Hey!" Rey shouted, and then immediately looked mortified with herself for doing so. Finn just gawked, then whispered. "Did he just make a joke? He makes jokes now?"

"You're supposed to be on my side," Rey hissed back, apparently forgetting she just gave away their location a minute ago and they should move.

"Children," Phasma said, visibly stopping herself from rolling her eyes. "That's enough. We're going and we'll find some water, drink and clear up if we can, and I won't hear another word about it."

Kylo opened his mouth to agree. Phasma glared at him.

"That includes you," she said. "Stop goading her."

Sometimes Phasma was no fun.

 

* * *

 

They didn't make it far before the rain started.

At first it seemed good. They were looking for water, after all, and if it rained they could catch it and fill their flasks, so at least they wouldn't die of thirst. But what fell from the sky wasn't water. It was blood.

Or at least it looked like blood, thick and red, with a heavy metallic scent, clinging to their skin and seeping through clothes. Rey looked like she might scream when she saw it, and even Phasma looked disgusted. But they were both better off than Finn, who panicked and almost ran off, before Phasma and Kylo stopped him. He would've probably broken his neck if they hadn't. The rain quickly turned into a downpour, so heavy they could hardly see one another, and the only thing they could do was wait for it to end.

"It's blood," Rey kept whispering, even after. "It's raining blood."

Kylo wished she would stop being so dramatic. It obviously wasn't real blood. The stuff had to be synthetic, because Hux would never harm animals purely for aesthetic, and it wasn't like he could just straight up murder people of Capitol.

"Well," Kylo drawled. "It wasn't that bad. At least you smell better now."

Rey looked at him like he was insane. In reality, being covered in slowly drying blood didn't make her look any better, but it wasn't that bad. Actually, it was pretty tame - the blood rain was disgusting, but it wasn't actively harming them in any way. It was probably Hux's idea of a joke, showering them with blood when they complained about the lack of water. It could pass as nice for his standards.

"We should head back to Cornucopia," Phasma said. "I'm not going to wander around aimlessly like this." She seemed keen to ignore whatever banter was going on between Kylo and Rey, focusing instead on Finn, who still looked shell-shocked. She really had to have a soft spot for a boy to act so caring.

Kylo didn't bother to reply, just turned towards the lake without waiting for the rest to stumble along. It made sense to go back; the lake was the only place they knew the water was, and with the four of them they could handle the risk of running into other tributes. Any alliance bigger than theirs was impossible; there simply weren't that many tributes left.

It was surprising they all lasted so long, actually. Even if Hux wasn't trying to kill _him_ , he had little reason not to make a spectacle out of others. He could like Phasma enough to not actively try to kill her, sure, but he was hell-bent on taking Rey out in last Games, and now... It was suspiciously easy to keep Rey alive so far. The only time she was truly close to dying was when she was attacked before Kylo found her, and that was because of another tribute. But they had little obstacles since then, almost like the arena was working for them, not against them, and it was so unlike Hux it was disconcerting. Hux didn't let go of his grudges so easily. Not unless he had a very good reason for it, and there wasn't much he would count as a good reason.

The question was: what was Hux planning?

Whatever it was, Kylo thought, he probably wouldn't like it. Maybe Hux was trying to lull them into false sense of security and a particularly unpleasant trap. Kylo hoped so - the alternative was likely worse. But he didn't like not knowing. Hux, for all his little ambitions and almost arrogant belief in his own competency, was usually predictable. He wanted to be the President and he wanted to rule, to take Snoke's place, even though was too cowardly to declare it openly. He had his little machinations, but in the end he heeded Snoke's word. Usually. If he wasn't now...

Kylo didn't want to think of the possibility.

There was, he knew, very little one could do without the President knowing. Snoke seemed to know everything that happened in the Republic and he didn't take kindly to treason. Kylo saw many examples of what happened to those who disobeyed him. Sometimes he was the one who was made into an example.

That knowledge was hardly any comfort.

He could already see the beach between the trees. Focusing on now was a better option anyway. What happened outside of the arena was out of his hands.

Rey and Finn had run into water once they saw it, gasping with relief. Phasma followed more cautiously, but she too seemed keen to be rid of the dried blood covering her skin.

Kylo stayed on the sand. They were vulnerable in water, easily visible from the treeline with no cover in sight. He could wait.

Rey was washing herself so thoroughly she might've scrabbed her skin off. If she was afraid of water before, it didn't show now.

"Aren't you going to get in?" she asked, when she spotted Kylo still on the beach.

"No." He turned away from her, scanning the horizon. The danger was more likely to come from the treeline than from water, even if Rey did wish him dead. She's probably wished him dead for a long time.

"Suit yourself," Rey murmured, looking back to Finn. Kylo ignored her.

The arena was almost absurdly pretty, he hadn't noticed it before. The sun was setting now and it painted the sky pink and blue, with clouds like cotton candy. It was artificial, of course, and had nothing to do with the real passage of time, but at the same time it was so unlike an evening on Coruscant. The Capitol never slept, after all, and never went dark. But here, on the arena prepared to kill him, he had sunsets and starry nights like the ones he had seen as a child.

He hadn't thought he would eversee it again.

"Kylo?" Phasma asked, standing near him. He had only been half-aware she was coming closer. "You can get into the water. I'll keep watch." Her clothes were wet and clinging to her frame, and the strands of her hair, turned darker with moisture, were falling in her eyes. It was strange. He'd known Phasma for years and he had never seen her so undone.

Rey and Finn were still in the lake, chatting quietly. Finn was helping Rey wash her hair and for some reason they both seemed to find it funny, splashing water around like little kids. It was almost peaceful: pretty beach, warm water, and a sunset.

He almost wished it was real.

"The tree over there," Kylo pointed to the horizon. "The one just a little taller than others. Doesn't it seem different to you? Weird?"

"It's just a tree." Phasma sounded put out, like she was speaking to the child. "In a forest. With other trees. They're not all the same."

"It's an artificial forest," Kylo said. "With artificial trees. Why should only one be so different?"

Why would Hux make it different, he asked himself.

"Does it matter?" Phasma shrugged.

"It matters if Hux is planning something that will eventually kill us." Kylo knew he sounded petulant, but didn't much care.

"You're being paranoid," Phasma rolled her eyes. "And I don't think he would like to try to kill you."

"No," Kylo said softly and looked to the lake. "Just her."

Phasma stayed silent and didn't ask why it mattered, when they both knew survival meant eventually killing others. Maybe she was thinking of how she would have to kill Finn.

Kylo wondered what, exactly, her priorities were.

"It's hardly worth worrying over," Phasma finally said. "It's not like we can stop Hux if he is planning something. And we should stay here anyway. It's the only place with guaranteed access to fresh water."

Kylo looked back at her. "It would leave us awfully exposed."

"So?" She didn't seem overly concerned. "We're the strongest team. Others will have to come here if they want to drink and we will be waiting."

It wasn't the worst plan, even if it ignored the part of what would happen after all the others were dead. A second Cornucopia, perhaps. But it was also overly cautious, sitting and waiting, when they could actively hunt others one by one. It seemed more Phasma's style; it certainly was more Kylo's. But Phasma wanted them to stay together in one place.

"Phas," Kylo said carefully. "Are you hiding something from me?"

"No," She sounded genuinely surprised. "No, why would I?"

Why indeed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Unbetad, so if you spot any mistakes please point them out.~~ Now betad thanks to Marron!
> 
> I made some changes to chapter 3, but it's one paragraph, so it's hardly noticeable.


	7. Hux III

If attempting to change the Games so close to the start date was almost impossible, then what Hux was attempting to do now was akin to trying to fly into the sun. Stupid and pointless, and very unlike him. Usually he wasn't the type to take unnecessary risks, and yet he here he was, betting everything on one card. He'd rather not think of why he was doing it.

Seeing his plans through might actually kill him  - and it would be faster than Snoke would ever be.

There was, he admitted, a slight mishap he didn't predict. He thought the preparations outside of the arena would be more difficult and take precedence, while his smooth machine ran itself. But Ren proved, once again, that he couldn't be trusted to keep himself alive not five minutes after the Games started. While Hux didn't care much for most of the tributes, he knew all of his plans would be for nothing if his tickets to the Resistance died because of their own stupidity.

Kylo Ren, Hux decided, was nothing but a nuisance. He should've known that idiot would be the death of him.

It took hours after the start for Hux to leave the control room.

"Don't let any of them die too easily," he said, throwing one last look at his underlings. They best not disappoint him now. "Especially not Ren. The capitol wants a show."

"Mitaka, come with me." Hux snapped his fingers. He waited only after the door closed after them, then asked. "Is Poe Dameron our guest yet?"

"He is, sir." The answer was so quick it almost made Hux smile. Mitaka was a coward, but at least he was a loyal and capable one. "Do you want to see him?"

Hux considered. Letting Dameron wait could be an advantage – if the stylists had the time to imagine all the thing that could happen to him now he might be more talk-active. But Hux was after cooperation, not information this time. Extending Dameron some courtesy might be in order.

"Take me to him," he told Mitaka.

It turned out Dameron was kept only a short walk away from the control room, which was a good foresight on Mitaka's part, Hux had to admit. It was some sort of rec room, probably meant to be used by technician on a break, filled with coffee tables and soft couches in cream colours. Very Coruscanti in style, but hardly a place one could expect to be interrogated in. But it also made it easier to bug proof and disable all the cameras, if one wanted to keep a conversation away from Snoke's ears.

Even, or maybe especially, a conversation with a prisoner.

Dameron, at least, looked his part as a martyr and didn't fit in at all. The stormtroopers really did do a number on him. He no longer resembled a handsome Capitol socialite Hux had seen so many times. He looked more like a beaten dog. That was good. He hoped the beating looked convincing enough for the President to believe Dameron was taken care of, rotting in some dumpster.

And not, in any way, plotting against the Republic.

"I hope you didn't mind the troopers' greetings," Hux said, walking into the room. "They can be overly enthusiastic."

They never were enthusiastic, of course, but that hardly mattered.

Dameron lifted his head and blinked blearily. His face really did look terrible; the bruises already had time to set in. The whole left side looked purple and misshapen, nothing like Dameron's usual rugged handsome. It would look worse yet. And it must hurt.

"I'm not going to tell you anything." Dameron said with visible effort. His voice was wheezy, but his breathing was worse, shallow and laboured. Probably broken ribs, so every word he spoke would cause him pain.

"There's no need to." Hux crossed the room and went straight for the whiskey. It was his whiskey and if he had to waste time talking to Dameron – when the Games were on, live – he could at least get some good alcohol. "I'm assuming you've been a spy the whole time you worked on Coruscant?"

Dameron stayed stubbornly silent.

"And how long have you been working for the Resistance?" Hux continued. "Since your mother died? Or even before, always eager to follow into her footsteps? I know you grew up on a base with them, but I don't think Organa would've let you start too young... Not as young as dear Finn is, surely?"

"What do you want." Dameron's voice was weak, but there was definite note of anger in it. Hux would admire his ability to still get righteously angry when beaten half to death, if it wasn't so damn irritating.

"Nothing you can tell me, I assure you." He turned and looked at the stylist.

"Have you come to taunt me, then?" Dameron smirked. It looked terrible with his split lip and probably hurt. And yet he drawled mockingly. "Is that something you enjoy, Hux? Surely you haven't come to kill me, not you, you don't bother with such dirty work. If you wanted me dead, I would've been already killed by the stormtroopers. So what do you want?"

Hux's fingers tightened around the glass. There was very little he enjoyed about this conversation.

"I need you to contact Leia Organa," he said. There was no need to beat around the bush, after all. "I will arrange a safe line. You will ask her to provide a ship, one equipped with cloaking technology that will pass even the Capitol's defences. I know the Resistance has them. This ship will pick up around ten people – let's say they will be refugees from the Republic. The coordinates are here." Hux set a datachip on a coffee table and tapped a finger against it.

"The window for this will be ten minutes. Once it passes, the ship needs to be already in hyperspace," Hux continued. "Oh, and there should be a medic on it. I expect the refugees may need it."

Dameron was too trained to let surprise show on his face, but watching his guards come up so quickly was answer enough. There was no doubt it wasn't what he expected.

"And why," he said slowly, "would I do any of that?"

"That's the only way you will see both Finn and Rey alive again," Hux shrugged. "And you do want to see them both again, don't you?"

Dameron looked down and exhaled. Liked his lips, preparing to make a choice that was never a choice in a first place.

"And what's in it for you?" he asked.

"A place on that ship, obviously. A safe passage and a guarantee of immunity once we're on Resistance’s soil." Hux never thought he would say those words, and yet here he was. "Some gratitude would be nice, but I suppose that would be asking for too much."

"She won't agree." Dameron sounded resigned, but absolutely convinced of his words. "Leia Organa will never negotiate with you. Not even to rescue the victors."

"Of course she would," Hux said. "I'm giving her back her son."

 

* * *

 

 

Everything went quickly after that.

Dameron made the call alone – Hux allowed him this luxury, as he had no actual desire to witness that conversation or come face-to-face with Organa before he actually had to – and he came back white faced and stunned and disorientated, but with an agreement: the ship would come, and Hux would get his immunity.

Hux couldn't even blame the man for looking so shocked; he felt like he was dreaming himself. Before this moment, he didn't quite believe his plan would work, that Organa would agree and they would get an actual chance at this. He told Phasma he was sure of it, but it was the same lie he was repeating to himself. He knew how foolhardy and far-fetched it all was, and the thought of actually pulling it off... It might actually be a better thrill than working the arena.

But working the arena was what he had to do now, even if he was giddy with a mix of relief and victory. Mitaka could take care of hiding Dameron for the next three days, as well as securing Hux's personal belongings and Millicent, that wasn't beyond him. But the Games were on, and in any case Hux wouldn't trust anyone with overseeing the arena now, not when so much depended on the outcome. He only had to make sure some of the victors would make it out alive – or even just Ren and Rey, the girl should be enough of a symbol for the rebels – and it would all fall into place. He would be free of the restrictions of Capitol, and if he played his cards right he could ensure Snoke would be disposed, and then...

If only Snoke would leave him in peace to actually see this through.

Rationally, Hux knew that Snoke focusing on the Games and ignoring everything else – including the growing displeasure on Capitol and riots everywhere besides inner core worlds, as well as Hux's own machinations to defect – was a good thing. But the constant scrutiny was off-putting and the actual company of the man was, at best, exhausting.

But he couldn't refuse summons from the President, not even now. Especially not now. Not yet.

"She's still alive," Snoke said as soon as Hux's stepped into his office. He kept his eyes on the display of the Games. "Why is she not dead yet?"

Hux had to physically stop himself from sneering; he hoped the disgust he felt didn't show on his face. The was nothing more than pure obsession – the most powerful man in the Galaxy, capable of destroying entire star systems, and yet all he cared about was killing one little girl. It would be funny, if it wasn't also the height of incompetency.

"It's not the right time." Hux tried to keep his voice smooth and steady, without the hint of lie. "The people still love her. They still believe in her. In a few more days, though... Once she starts killing to survive they will see her for what she is, and they will hate her for it. And she won't be able to avoid killing, I'll ensure that."

"I don't care if people love her or hate her." Snoke finally looked away from the screens and at Hux. "I want her dead. Dead and forgotten."

 _Well, that wouldn't happen_ , Hux thought.

"The outer rim is still in riots, sir." To himself he sounded placating and pleading and a little nervous. He didn't even have to act: he did want to convince Snoke to wait and let him act. "It would be best not to incite them further. If she dies now, they will see her as a martyr."

"I can stop the riots any time I want," Snoke said, and in the grand opulence of his palace, behind walls and an army, it sounded almost true. "I will bathe them in blood if I have to."

"And who is going to stop me? Workers on the outer core? Armed with weapons older than this country? Or the resistance? Led by the glorious general Organa? A bunch of misfits without home or hope," Snoke continued. There was no real intention in his voice, just same old phrases repeated over and over like a machine.

 _Me_ , Hux thought. "You're right, sir," he said instead. "There is no real danger. And yet... it's still better to crush the spark of rebellion before it turns into a fire."

"You can spew poetry all you want, Hux." Snoke turned away from him and back to the screens where Rey was displayed, still alive and reasonably well. "The girl will be dead. You have three days to so it."

It was clearly a dismissal.

And three days were more than enough.

 

* * *

 

Hux felt like the time was slipping through his fingers, these last few days. Everything was a rush and even though he hardly slept, relying instead on coffee and stims, there still was so much to do. Managing the arena turned out to be, actually, the easiest part. His design was simple and elegant, all of his previous experience combined with the wealth the Capitol offered, a beautiful but deadly trap. It's mostly run itself, with natural disasters occurring on the clock and keeping the remaining tributes moving. Hux let his team do most of the work with figuring out how to show it on screen. He could do it better, but they were capable enough. He was mostly concerned with keeping his eye on a death toll and keeping his victors alive. But this too was easier than he expected. Phasma was frighteningly efficient in keeping her little team together and alive, and even Ren behaved under her eye. It wasn't like Hux cared much about anyone else.

But there was still much to do: pulling the tributes off the arena might be the easiest part of what he wanted to do. He was the one who built it, after all, and he had all the access codes. But he had to ensure no one would suspect anything while he was making all the preparations, and then he had to make sure their gateway ship could leave undetected. Cutting off the power was the most obvious solution and the one he had planned for – the arena was big enough to cause temporary disturbance in the region and Hux had built in the switch that would activate it. With the jamming devices planted, they could remain undetected for a few minutes.

But this was only half a solution. Coruscant was a planet turned into a city, where everything, atmosphere and weather and gravity, was artificially constructed and controlled. It wasn't possible to turn a planet off – and even if it was, it would likely kill everyone on it – and the planet shields would still stay in place even with a power shortage. Turning them off required authorization from the President. Theoretically, because Hux had hacked the system before. The security was focused on keeping the outside interference out, not someone who wanted to gain access from the planet surface, which left it awfully vulnerable. But getting in was the easy part. Lowering the shields without setting any alarms was the hard one. Hux had obtained a code which should do it, but he wouldn't actually know if it worked until it happened.

And then there was a question of what would happen after they left the Capitol. Hux didn't care much where, exactly, the Resistance base was. He had his suspicions, but he didn't think Dameron would be happy to confirm them, and ultimately it was inconsequential. It wasn't like Leia Organa would send a traceable ship for them.

He was more worried whether she would keep her word, once they were on base. Hux knew he was valuable, but the Resistance hated him, and if they decided to kill him or lock him up there would be little he could do to stop them. He needed leverage and the best leverage was information – and they would need information if they wanted to win this war. Hux had access to a lot of databases, but collecting all of it and then encrypting it to make sure he was the only one able to read it took time. And it wasn't something he could leave to others.

Even with all of this, he still felt awfully unprepared.

The third day of Games found him pacing anxiously inside the control room. It was quite unlike him, but he hated waiting. There wasn't much left to do: at four hundred hours a lightning storm would start in the arena, the latest natural disaster in a series of them. It would cause a power outrage and trigger a program to lower the shields. Hux would leave before it happened. He already had a datachip, encrypted and keyed in to his biometrics, with him. He would get Dameron, while Mitaka got Millicent and Unamo, and they would leave. They would broad the Resistance ship, get the victors straight from the arena, and leave. It would take minutes. It would work.

The waiting, though, was maddening.

Hux went around the model of the arena, turned on his heel and circled it again. He couldn't stay still and that irritated him even more, and so he paced. It was better than the fear simmering under the surface of his thoughts.

He could see the technicians shifting uneasily, too afraid and well-trained to follow him with their eyes. They picked up on his mood, but did not understand the cause of it. Hux thought, with a touch of regret, that he would likely never see any of them after today. He had handpicked all the people working directly on the arena, trained them to his exact standards, and even gotten used to their presence. It was quite a shame he had to lose it.

But there was nothing to be done about it now, and nothing was ever done by dwelling on sentimentality. The technicians were replaceable. Most people were.

Hux turned on his heel again.

"Thanisson, you're in charge," he said and left the room.

If he had to drive himself crazy with waiting, at least he could do so in a more comfortable room. One without the temptation of changing the arena, adjusting his plans at last minute, even if he knew it was pointless and wouldn't end well; his plans were already as close to perfect as they could get. Hux knew himself well enough, knew he craved control. How not being able to control outside circumstances in the way he controlled the arena angered him. Anger, he also knew, was not a good advisor, so the best he could do at the moment was to take himself out of this equation, even if it was out of character for him.

There wasn't really anyone to tell him not to, anyway.

Dameron still stayed in one of the rec rooms. Hux didn't know if the men longed for a comfort of a real bed or a warm bath. To be honest, he didn't really care. He wanted to keep Dameron close and away from any potential communication with the Resistance. Last thing he needed was to be outplayed by Organa's spy.

The man in question looked hardly better than three days ago. The bruises had  mostly faded from purple to yellow and that, Hux noticed, was not a good look even on someone as classically handsome as Dameron. There were dark shadows under his eyes, too, but it still could be worse.

"You should rest," Hux said anyway. He didn't want to analyse why he sought out Dameron. "There's still a couple of hours left."

In any case, it couldn't be a bad idea to learn as much as he could from Dameron, before they would end on the Resistance's territory and Hux would be the one locked in an elegant room.

If they granted him even that.

Dameron sighed, then stretched, but didn't say anything. He didn't look afraid anymore, but he didn't have any real reason to – he knew Hux needed him to get out of Capitol. Hux preferred him when he didn't know.

He rubbed his fingers on the datachip.

"How did you know he is her son?" Dameron asked quietly. They both knew whom he meant.

"You didn't?" Hux thought longingly about the whiskey he knew was kept in this room. Drinking now would be unwise, to say the least, but suffering through a conversation with Dameron without it seemed unbearable. The man had to choose the most irritating topic.

"No, I did. She told me." Dameron looked to the side. "She wanted me to keep an eye on him. See if there was any way to get him out."

"You think he would want to get out?" Hux almost scoffed.

"No. No, I don't imagine he would." Dameron paused, and looked straight at Hux. "But you still will do it, won't you?"

"I don't care much for his opinion," Hux said. "Or yours, for that matter."

Dameron, of course, still couldn't keep quiet.

"And what do you think will happen next?"

But that was a good question, wasn't it?

"We will both live, for one." Hux wished to sound nonchalant, but it didn’t quite work. "So will Ren, and Rey, and Finn. I didn't think you would care for much besides."

"I don't," Dameron shrugged. "But you do."

"Maybe not as much as you think," Hux said. It was a lie, but the bitterness in his voice was real.

"Maybe," Dameron agreed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's one more chapter left. In this part, at least.
> 
> If you're liking this story so far, please consider leaving kudos and/or a comment.


	8. Rey II

This arena really was deceivingly beautiful, Rey thought.

When Phasma said they should stay near the lake, at least for one more day, Rey and Finn agreed easily. The both felt better once they could clean themselves of blood, but they were still shaken up and dehydrated and tired, so a prospect of rest was appealing. With Finn there with her Rey didn't feel quite so afraid of water anymore. It was even fun, once they were both clean, to splash themselves with cold water and then lay down on sand, drying in the last rays of the sun.

It was almost peaceful. She wasn't hungry and thirsty for the first time in three days and Finn was here. She didn't need anything else. And she didn't want to think why they were here, not when she could almost forget it. It was almost too easy to close her eyes and pretend that they were alone and happy, that Finn had taken her on a trip to the beach to finally teach her how to swim and now they were resting in the sun after a long day of fun, that the Games were long behind them.

It could become a beautiful memory, in time, if only it was true.

Rey knew she would never get to make a memory like this, no matter how she tried to forget that fact. There was no way for them both to leave the Games arena alive, not for a second time. She hoped she would be the one to die first. She hoped Finn would make it out, that he would live and laugh and watch sunsets. She thought she could be content with her own death, if Finn survived.

There wasn't much chance of that. These Games were a punishment for them both – for other victors, too, for daring to think they were unreachable, safe – but for two of them especially, for breaking the rules and staying alive. Rey wasn't stupid enough to think they could escape it. If the gamemakers wanted them dead, they would be.

And even if they escaped the arena, what chance they stood against other tributes? Last year Games' were filled with children, when here they were all seasoned killers, only sharpened with the years spent in Capitol. The alliance with Ren and Phasma granted Rey and Finn some protection and was quite likely the only thing still keeping them alive, but it wouldn't last. Rey still didn't know why the older victors choose to side with them. She could understand Phasma, maybe, because the woman was obviously somehow fond of Finn. But Ren's motivations were a mystery. Perhaps he just stuck with Phasma and adhered to her ideas, at least as long as it suited him. Until he got the chance to kill them.

Rey was sure Ren wouldn't hesitate to kill any of them.

Ren had changed with the Games. He talked more now they were here on the arena, became more animated and restless, constantly stayed on the alert. He still moved with a grace of a predator, looking like he could attack at any moment. He hardly slept, but didn't seem tired at all, even when Rey struggled to keep her eyes open. Where they faltered he seemed to thrive, filled with a manic energy.

She couldn't imagine any of them besting him in a fight, not even Phasma.

Rey traced buried her fingers in the sand, lifted a fist of it and then let it fell down back to the ground. It remained her of Jakku, even if the sand was different here, less coarse, but lighter and wet. It was funny. When she was on Jakku, she couldn't wait to leave the place. She imagined it a thousand times: her family would return and then take her away, and then they would live somewhere with a lot of green, with fields of flowers and waterfalls. Childish dreams, but they kept her warm on lonely cold nights. But now, when she knew she would never go back to Jakku, she found herself missing it. It was the only home she had ever known.

Would her family even know, if she died here on the arena, so far away from sands of Jakku? Would they care?

Would anyone even remember her?

"Hey." Finn sat up beside her and squeezed her hand. His eyes searched her face. "You alright?"

"Yeah." Rey said and smiled at him, pushing away all of her dark thoughts. At least she wouldn't die all alone. At least someone would remember her. At least she had found Finn, which was more then she could've ever asked for.

"That's good." Finn squeezed her hand, one, two, three times. "Phasma says will stay here, keep watch. She will go first, then Ren, and then us. You want the last one?"

"Yeah," Rey said again, though she felt the smile slipping off her face. She didn't like the idea of sleeping while Phasma and Ren watched, didn't like the thought of giving them that much opportunity. But they were tired, and if she tried to stay up half the night again, she would just fall asleep. Finn giving her the last watch to let her sleep uninterrupted was sweet, but it didn't ease her mind.

"Okay," Finn smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. "It's a beautiful sunset. I've never seen one like this."

"Yes," Rey said for the third time.

She could accept her own death, but she couldn't bear the thought of his.

 

* * *

 

"Rey." Someone was whispering in her ear. "Rey, wake up."

Rey blinked, stifled a yawn. She felt Finn's hand on her shoulder, a light touch more of a caress than a wake-up shake. She would've woken up a lot quicker if it was anyone else, but she was used to him now, even in the middle of the night. They slept together more often than they did apart.

"Is it time already?" She asked.

"Yeah," Finn answered. "It'll be dawn soon."

Rey nodded. It didn't feel so long. It felt like she just went to sleep, curled up with Finn. "Thanks," she said. "Go back to sleep."

Finn shook his head. "I could stay up with you. I'm already awake, anyway."

"Barely," It was still dark enough not so see his face properly, even so close to her own, but she knew how it must've looked. "And you will be no use if you're half-dead on your feet... We need to keep sharp."

Finn shrugged, but didn't protest any further. They both knew she was right. Rey got up, and he slipped into place her body left warm on sand, asleep in minutes. She almost envied him.

She wanted nothing more than to lay beside Finn and go back to sleep. It was cold, colder than it was when she want to sleep, as it usually was before the sun came up. She grabbed her staff and started walking along the beach, passing the sleeping forms of Phasma and Ren.

She was already shivering a little, so a brisk walk would both wake her up and warm her. She circled their little camp, if it could even be called that.

It was weirdly quiet. She didn't really have any comparison for it. The deserts on Jakku were never this quiet, but then again, they weren't artificially constructed either. Still, it made her uneasy, on edge. Nowhere should be this quiet and lifeless.

Rey scanned the treeline again.

One of the trees was visibly taller than all the others, stark even against the skyline. It was as weird as the quietness, this one exception from the rule. Why was it like that? There was nothing natural about this forest, so it had to be for a reason.

Rey looked around her, and then stepped between the trees, ignoring the voice inside her head screaming at her not to do this. Nothing good had happened inside this forest, and she was meant to stand watch. She shouldn't go away, not when Finn was sleeping and vulnerable in the open. But she also wanted to know. Taking a few steps in surely wouldn't hurt.

She hadn't meant to wander far, but it was difficult to judge how much time has passed without sun, and she only realized how far she's gotten once she couldn't see the beach behind her anymore. But it still wasn't all the far, surely, and the forest got denser here, almost as if it wanted to keep her out...

She kept walking, even though she knew she shouldn't.

She wondered if it was a trap, if maybe there was something in here meant to lure the tributes, or if it was just her own curiosity. Maybe she was walking towards her own death. Maybe it would be better that way, if she died here now, when she knew Finn was still alive and safe, and she wouldn't have to see him dead.

She took another step and didn't find the ground beneath her feet.

Rey screamed, falling down the ravine, when something cached her. Or rather someone.

Ren.

He pulled her back, back on solid ground and into himself. Rey realized she was shaking, still half-believing she would fall to her death, but Ren was a steady presence beside her. One she wanted to grab onto, even if it was him.

"How many times," he asked, eyes unreadable in the dark, "will I have to save your life?"

Rey opened her mouth before she could think of an answer. She didn't have one, not really, and what was he even doing here? Why would he even help her? If she died, wasn't it just one person less for him to kill?

She swallowed, but didn't have time to say anything. There was a low rumbling noise, then a flash. Thunder. It was silent, for a moment, then the sound and light came again, and again, and again, closer each time. They looked at each other with the same realization. It came from the edges of the arena, but it was coming closer.

"Go back to the beach," Ren said.

Rey scrambled back to her feet. She didn't say anything, didn't look back to see what Ren would do, just ran. Back to the beach. Back to Finn.

Why did she even leave him? The forest was still dark, when it wasn't by lightning, the sunrise an hour away yet. But the thunder grew, coming closer and faster, right behind her. She shouldn't have left him. She ran, as fast as she could. The arena didn't look beautiful anymore, the dark branches of trees reaching for her like claws. It looked like a nightmare, a scene out of a horror. A graveyard.

"Finn!" Rey screamed, not caring who could hear her. "Finn!" Her voice was lost in the low rumble of thunder, the sound all around her.

Please be fine, she thought. Be alive.

She was close to the treeline now, could see the beach and the lake between the branches. So so close, and he would be here. She tried screaming again, but she was out of breath, and she had to keep running. She felt desperate, shaken and uneven. She couldn't hear anything, not even her own breaths.

She took a step, the wet sand under her feet shifting away. The world swam before her eyes and all she could hear was thunder. Or maybe it was her falling. She didn't know. She took another step and everything went black.

 

* * *

 

Rey woke up slowly, to a gently humming of a ship.

It was weird. She's gotten used to sleeping on ships during their long victory tour, used to the sounds they made and how it was never quiet at night. But the sound was different now, louder and a little lower, and there was no gentle breathing in her ear, so maybe Finn had already gotten up...

Finn!

Rey opened her eyes and tried to stand up, then hissed at the pain all over her body. Her head was pounding and she couldn't see anything and she didn't know where Finn was.

"Shhh." Someone was touching her gently, keeping her from falling down. "Easy, don't try to move so fast."

"Finn," she tried to say, her voice hoarse. Where's Finn.

"He's here, he'll be here in the moment. He's fine. In better shape than you, actually." The voice said again. She knew that voice.

"Poe," she whispered. Her throat felt tight and parched and she still couldn't really see anything, her eyes filled with tears and she didn't even know what for. "Poe. You're alive." She blindly wrapped her arms around him, clinging.

"Yeah." Poe sounded so happy, like he was on a verge of laughing. "I am. Alive and well and safe. And so are you, and Finn-"

"Rey!" And that was Finn's voice.

Rey turned to it, blinking through the tears, and here he was, running into the room and into her arms, and then everything was Finn Finn Finn, and she felt like laughing herself.

"Oh Rey," he said. "You're finally awake. I've missed you so much."

"Me too. I've missed you, too." And she did. She didn't know how long it was and she wasn't even awake for it, but she missed him like she missed water back on Jakku, in overwhelmingly sun; unknowingly, with her whole being, all the time.

"But what happened?" She asked. "Where are we?"

She turned back to Poe. He was watching them and smiling, but it was a strange smile. But it changed, when he caught her looking.

"This is Millenium Falcon." He spread his arm and circled the whole room, which actually wasn't big or anywhere near as luxurious as most lodgings they had on ships before. "Welcome to the Resistance."

"What." Rey looked at Finn, stunned, but he was grinning and nodding, still holding her hands.

"There was a plan," Poe said, before she could ask anything else. "To get you all out of the arena. Somewhere were you would be safe. And it worked, mostly, I mean you did get electrocuted a little, but it was harmless and you will be fine... You both will be fine."

"But how did you survive?" Rey asked, then cringed at her own question. "The stormtroopers, I saw them beating you, I thought..."

Poe grimaced. "Apparently, that was a part of a plan."

"Apparently? Wait, whose plan was it?"

Poe and Finn exchanged a look, but both stayed silent. Rey looked between them, but then she had more questions.

"But how did we get out? What do you mean electrocuted? And the Resistance? I thought they were wiped out almost thirty years ago, after Yavin..."

"Slow down," Poe actually laughed this time. "Not everything at once."

"Phasma was in on it," Finn said, and he too was smiling a little. "That's why she wanted us to stay together so much. She knew the ship would come, when and where. She woke me up in time and we left the beach, so they picked us up safely. She told me we were going to look for you, actually, to get me there. And we did, but we were already on the ship and couldn’t leave and they had a ten minute window to leave, so it was a good thing you went to back to the beach. But the sand was wet, so..."

"The lightning bolts were meant to cause power outage," Poe interrupted. "So that the ship could leave untracked. But yeah, it got you a little fried." He winced at his own words. "But you're fine! You will be fine, you were just unconscious for a couple of hours."

Rey nodded, feeling a little stupid, because that didn't actually explain anything. Where they were, where they were going, how did they even get out...

"So Phasma is here, too?" She grasped at the familiar piece of information. It was the only thing that actually made sense, in a tale of lightning and Resistance ships. At least she knew Phasma. "But where is Ren?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you, actually."

Rey looked at a doorway, where the new voice came from, and blanched.

"Apparently he went after you, away from the forest," Armitage Hux said. He was wearing a grey dove suit, hair perfectly coiffed. It was out of place in an old, run-down ship, but he looked as comfortable in it as he did in the Presidential Palace. Rey hated him, more than she hated anything else.

"So shouldn't you be the one to know where he is?" He grimaced, like the words he just said left a bad taste in his mouth.

"Hux." Poe stood up, blocking a sight between the door and the bed where Finn and Ren were still curled up. It was a small room, so it looked like he filled all the space. "Leave it. She just woke up."

"And yet she is here," Hux said slowly.

Poe lifted his hand, looking like he wanted to say something, but Rey interrupted him.

"We were in the forest. Near the tallest tree. When the lightning started striking, I went back. He didn't." She swallowed. "I don't know anything else."

Hux looked at her then, over the Poe's head, and she held his stare. His eyes were really pale, a blue-green colour. They almost didn't look human.

She wasn't sure he was.

Whose plan it was, she thought to herself, repeating her own question in her head. Of course. Of course.

"Hux," Poe repeated, a warning clear in his voice.

Hux looked back at him. "I don't think this will be enough of an explanation for her," he said, then shrugged, suddenly uncaring. "But it's the same to me. We will be landing in two hours."

He left without another word, but all of three of them stayed silent until the echoes of his footsteps faded.

Rey wondered what it meant, if Hux was here, if this was his plan. Who the she was and why would she care about Ren. She would've asked Poe, but it was quite clear he didn't want them to know, or maybe he didn't know himself. She was so happy a few moments ago, but how could she be, with a man like Hux on board? They were all just puppets on the strings in his hands, and he played them as he wished, uncaring and unfeeling.

She realized how much her head hurt. All she wanted to do was sleep again.

"Poe," Finn said quietly, "where are we going?"

Poe turned to look at them again.

"D'Qar." He smiled. "We're going home."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, I really like to have my exposition through dialogue. Also, this is unbetad, so if you see any mistakes, please do point them out.
> 
> This is the end, though only for that part - I am sorry to end it on a kind of cliff-hanger, but it was always this kind of three story arcs in my head. I wondered whether to post it together with the next chapter (which will be the first chapter of the next story), but it wouldn't really help that much. And I'm really impatient, so I wanted to get it out. On the bright side, you get this update quicker! And the next part will be up on 03.03, because I like the date.
> 
> Thank you all for reading - I hope you did enjoy it! If you did, please consider leaving a kudo or a comment, I really do need the encouragement; and if you already did, thank you! I do cherish them all.
> 
> You can always come talk to me on [tumblr](http://dobranocka.tumblr.com/). There's also [a moodboard](http://dobranocka.tumblr.com/post/160511989873/moodboard-for-from-my-dreams-in-which-hux-is-a) for this story, so maybe check it out?


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